


Some Assembly Required

by kittykatdennings94



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Friendship, Rebuilding, Slow Build, and a lot of Maria Hill, because she is the glue of this operation according to me, rewriting Natasha after joss whedon's hack job sorry not storry, seeds of civil war, self discovery, she deserves better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatdennings94/pseuds/kittykatdennings94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when women become best friends and overcome their differences?</p><p>(Joss Whedon sheds a tear) </p><p>And then the girls kick ass and take names and find true love because that's what life's all about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home Improvement References are Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! Your feedback is seriously appreciated!!!!!!!!!11

It was the month of May (think Justin Timberlake’s ramen noodle hair days), and the world had almost ended. Again.

Maria Hill tended to run on the pragmatic side, so she was managing the fallout with her usual aplomb. It was everyone _else_ who’d lost their collective minds when Tony Stark finally did the inevitable- almost ending the world and everyone with it.

(Sometimes, in her less kind moments, Maria wondered why Fury still put stock in Stark’s judgment. Just because he was Howard’s son didn’t mean he was worth clinging onto as an asset.)

But Tony _did_ pay for the fancy new facility in upstate New York, so she was willing to overlook some of his flaws. (Some- not all).

It wasn’t hard finding people to join the new Avengers initiative. With the original team scattered, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff had scrambled to gather the few candidates they knew were trustworthy.

Sam Wilson. Scarlet Witch. War Machine. And _Vision._

(The fact that Banner and Stark had grown an Avenger disturbed Maria, though SHIELD had done equally questionable things in Maria’s time.)

There were moments when Maria questioned the path her life had taken. She had been on track to becoming the leader of the world’s most important defense department, once. She was able to call her mom once in a while and let her know that, yes, she was alive, and no, she still couldn’t talk about her job.

“It’s classified” was Maria’s go-to response when her mom got too close to something she didn’t want to discuss. She sometimes regretted the distance she kept from her family, but knowing that her parents were safe during alien invasions kind of made up for the guilt.

There was a reason Maria had gotten as far as she had in SHIELD- she could compartmentalize like a champ.

But not always.

When SHIELD fell, a part of Maria had fallen with it. She could remember her years at SHIELD’s academy for specialists, training in combat and diplomacy and coding- becoming _somebody._

She had graduated top of her year, and had risen through the ranks with alarming speed, even for her. Phil Coulson had taken her under his wing, and within 5 years of joining up, they both were batting for second-in-command of SHIELD. Eventually Phil was called away to gather certain individuals for a certain initiative, and she became the assistant director of SHIELD at age 28.

By 2012, Maria was sure that she was as settled as someone in her line of work could be.

Then Loki happened. And the Tesseract, and the wormhole. Tony Stark with a missile in his iron arms (oh yeah, that’s why they kept him around) and Captain America holding trading cards spattered with her friend’s blood.

Maria had felt genuine pain losing Phil. And then she found out what was really happening to him- TAHITI, GH-30, alien blood- and she _mourned_ the loss of her friend’s mind.

But she compartmentalized it.

And here she was, years later, working for Stark of all people. It was a front, of course, but it still felt a bit like a demotion. After years of enduring thinly veiled misogyny in SHIELD’s boys’ club, she was masquerading as a secretary. She liked the business side of security well enough, but the bureaucracy was _exhausting._ Maria spent hours each day fielding requests for hearings and inquisitions from congressmen and peacekeepers on a global scale, and for some time she’d also served as the Avengers’ make-shift operations manager from New York.

Now she was doing all that, plus organizing a new team to replace the old one.

5 years ago, Maria would have relished the challenge. She would have spent hours organizing committees and creating task forces in order to quickly execute Fury’s orders.

Today, Maria didn’t have the luxury of hours, or committee-planning. She didn’t have an infrastructure to rely on. Stark had been able to build up an R&D department from his own personal ranks, plus he’d brought Dr. Helen Chou and Dr. Erik Selvig on board with promises of fancy toys and large budgets.

Maria didn’t need scientists. She didn’t need super soldiers, or Norse gods, or assassins.

All she wanted were intelligent, reliable _agents_ who could catch what fell through the Avengers’ cracks.

In her weak moments, Maria imagined calling up Phil or Melinda, asking them to bring their team to the Avengers facility and join her. But Fury wanted Coulson rebuilding SHIELD, and after all her friend had been through, Maria couldn’t bear to pull him away from his task.

That was why Maria had logged onto her laptop (the one she rarely used in her quarters) and began perusing old SHIELD personnel files.

She needed agents, good, non-HYDRA agents. And while she wouldn’t find eligible candidates from old SHIELD staff, she could look for potential candidates from the starred files.

(If a person was starred, it meant they were somehow connected to SHIELD- whether it was an individual, or a mission related connection was irrelevant.)

Maria poured herself a generous glass of red wine and settled in for a night’s work.

* * *

 

“I’m telling you Darcy, I WILL not go work for SHIELD!”

Jane’s rain boots squeaked menacingly as she threw a wadded up ball of notes into the recycling bin outside her lab. Stomping back into the lab, she circled Darcy’s desk and stood in front of it.

As petite as Jane was, Darcy was feeling pretty towered-over at that moment.

Internally cursing, she tried again. “Let me read you the email again Jane! Unlimited budgets! Close proximity to other crazy scientists like you! Erik is there!”

Jane leaned down so she was gazing directly at Darcy and shook her head.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said no more SHIELD. I have the perfect setup here! I’m on track for a Nobel prize- everyone wants me at their conferences! I’m not going to go hide on Tony Stark’s funny farm just because he offers some perks. Here, my work can be public! It can be built upon and debated! With SHIELD it’s all non-disclosure agreements, knife and dagger secret keeping-“

“You mean cloak and dagger- and it isn’t even SHIELD.”

Jane scowled at Darcy and peered down at her laptop screen.

“Just because it doesn’t say SHIELD doesn’t mean it isn’t SHIELD, Darcy, don’t be so dense.”

Counting to 3, Darcy reread a line from the email Maria Hill had sent her that morning.

“’You will be part of a program aimed at creating a system of global defense’. She’s obviously not talking about SHIELD, or she wouldn’t be using the word global! I think this is for the Avengers, aka the team your boyfriend fights with?!”

Jane had the grace to look slightly chastened, but she still seemed mulish.

“Darcy… I’m a scientist. I don’t do ‘defense’, I do all-nighters and data analysis. I just- I’m finally happy here. I don’t want to risk losing that.”

Sighing, Darcy tucked her arms around her knees and nodded.

Jane smiled, and turned to the kitchenette to pour herself some coffee.

 “I do know, Jane. You’ve had it tough, and you’ve finally climbed to the top of your mountain. But… I don’t think I can stay here.”

The mug Jane had grabbed from the sink clattered onto the counter and shattered.

“You’re leaving?! Darcy, we can work something out- a compromise, maybe I’ll spend 6 months with not-SHIELD and 6 months here-“

Darcy stood and carefully hugged her friend who was working herself into a panic.

“I know you want to stay, and because you’re my best friend in the whole wide world, I’m not going to ask you to leave.”

Jane had started to cry, snuffling tears that made Darcy’s heart ache.

“I don’t wanna do this without you, Darce! You’re the best, no one would ever be able to replace you!”

“Not true. Ian’s been here part-time for over a year now and he’s well qualified to help you. I just can’t pass this up! This Hill lady says she has a position for me too- something in my “field”, as she put it. I haven’t worked in my “field” since 2011! I sometimes forget that I have a degree in Political Science from Culver, Jane. I need to find my own mountain, and start climbing it from the bottom.”

Still in Darcy’s arms, Jane tightened the embrace.

“Fine. I love you too much to ask you to stay, Darcy. I don’t have much in the way of family besides my mom, but you’re basically my only friend.”

“Jane, you have Thor. He’s literally a god, I think you’ll cope.”

Jane broke down into tears again, sending Darcy’s protective friend sensors into overdrive.

“Did he leave without saying goodbye again?! I’ll punch him, I don’t care if I break my hand!”

Finally letting go of Darcy, Jane turned to clean up the mug shards.

“He did say goodbye. He’s… gone back to Asgard for a bit. The thing with Ultron in Sokovia- something shook him, Darcy. I’ve never seen Thor this troubled, not even after his mom and Loki both died. It’s something… Norse-god related, and big. And he wouldn’t tell me much in the way of details.”

“Aw, Jane. I’m sorry, that sucks majorly. But at least you know he’s probably coming up with a way to defend the world you live on. It’s kind of a cute boyfriend thing to do.”

Darcy ducked as Jane threw a Poptart at her.

“Send that SHIELD lady your acceptance email. And then we’re going to lock up and go shopping, and then go drink, and then eat. Or both at the same time.”

Darcy gasped in mock-astonishment and grabbed her coat, affecting a horrible southern accent. “Oh my stars and garters Jane, I do believe the shock will end me!”

“You need to stop pretending to be Scarlett from _Gone with the Wind_ Darcy, it’s a very sad reminder of the roots of racial prejudice in the United States-“

“I knew some of my _soft science_ bullshit would rub off on you! I’ll make a social justice warrior out of you yet Jane!”

* * *

 

“Huh.”

Sam Wilson turned to Maria and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, just… someone surprised me. Which is a pretty uncommon thing around here.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You super-spy types. Think you’re so sneaky, acting like nothin’ shocks you. I saw the way you freaked out when Steve took off his shirt after practicing with War Machine last week- don’t worry I freaked out too. Boy’s got muscles for days. You know. I know you know.”

Maria elbowed Sam and laughed, feeling lighter than she ought to. She was very disappointed that Dr. Foster had rejected her offer of employment. As she walked back to her command station (aka her office) she re-read the email which had caught her off guard.

“Though Dr. Foster regretfully cannot take your offer, I, Darcy Lewis, would be honored to accept. I will need a week to settle my affairs here in London…”

That had been strange. Other than a Bachelor’s in Political Science, Lewis had no qualifications besides her internship with Jane Foster. Sure, she’d been around to witness the arrival of Thor, and she had been noted for her involvement in saving civilians during both Asgardian incidents (The Destroyer and the Dark Elves), but Darcy Lewis wasn’t really what Maria had had in mind for her new, elite team of agents.

No one else had responded to Maria’s emails, though, so she had no choice to accept what was being given to her. She could probably put the Lewis girl to work helping out in the record offices, or maybe she could assist in the labs.

It didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. She was driving back to the city the next morning to meet Pepper. They had a lot of homework, thanks to Tony’s little boo-boo in Sokovia, and Maria was going to be stuck working at Stark Industries for at least a few weeks.

Someone else was going to have to greet Darcy Lewis when she arrived in 2 days.

* * *

 

Airplanes were the absolute _worst._ Darcy sang this to herself in her best imitation of Jean Ralphio (Parks and Rec was forever alive in her heart) and lugged her suitcase from baggage check to the terminal exit. She had caught a red-eye from Heathrow at 1 AM, and had landed 10 hours later, disoriented and grouchy. Her iPod had died early on in the flight because she had fallen asleep listening to it for over 6 hours, so Darcy had been forced to listen to crying babies and turbulence for the rest of the flight. The male flight attendant had leered at her breasts each time he’d stopped by with a meal or a blanket, to the point that Darcy had feigned sleep to avoid interacting with him.

Still, it felt nice to be on American soil again. After setting her watch to match the time zone, she found a bench to wait on for her ride. Darcy had told Maria Hill in her email that she’d be fine with taking a shuttle to the facility, but she’d been told that security was of utmost priority when it came to the facility’s location. Personally Darcy had doubted that was really the case, but she was glad she didn’t have to shell out a hundred bucks for a horrible shuttle ride to upstate New York. Before five minutes had passed, a beat up Chevy pulled up. A vaguely familiar voice called out, “Is there a Lewis out here?”

Darcy couldn’t place the man speaking until she set eyes on his somewhat pug-like face.

“How you doin’, Ms. Lewis?”

Despite the ludicrousness of the scenario, Darcy was kind of overjoyed to see that her favorite jackbooted thug from New Mexico was still alive.

“Hi Agent. It’s good to see you, feathers intact.”

(Finding out that the agent she’d crushed on in Puente Antigua was an Avenger was kind of a shock to her system. Finding out that the agent in question was a bird themed superhero? Darcy nearly didn’t recover from her hysteria.)

The drive was slow-moving thanks to traffic, but Darcy had a nice time chatting with Clint. She was willing to chatter about her life AD- after Destroyer- because she knew the archer would be tight-lipped about his own history. She’d heard some stories from Erik on his more lucid days, of glowing blue eyes and a scepter. She wasn’t sure what Clint Barton had survived, but Darcy sure as hell didn’t want to bring it up. It was easier to be ditzy and lighthearted with the superhero type. Thor had been proof- when she was a quirky intern who made jokes and observed the obvious, the god of Thunder would smile and laugh. It was worth it to put yourself down if it meant lightening the load of a man who bore the weight of nine realms on his shoulders.

The same rule probably applied for a non-powered guy with a bow and arrow.

When they reached their, Clint parked the pick-up in the middle of an abandoned field. Darcy was already sweating at the prospect of lugging her huge suitcase outdoors when Hawkeye pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number.

As if by magic, a door appeared out of nowhere. Darcy tried to keep her jaw from dropping at the _cloaking_ technology she had just witnessed, but judging by Clint’s smirk she had failed miserably.

* * *

 

Steve was _not_ having a good day. Sitting in his “office/brooding space”, staring at his laptop- Steve was definitely have a bad day.

He hadn’t had a good day in a while, come to think of it. It was a sobering thought- ever since SHIELD fell, Steve had been torn between searching the earth for Bucky and his team. Somehow he had ended up leading the Avengers, which was a full time job.

Of course, Tony had to fuck everything up (language, he reminded himself sarcastically) with his dumb robots. Steve liked Stark well enough, but liking a man didn’t excuse a mistake like Ultron. Banner was equally to blame, but he was off the grid- which was probably good, because it meant Natasha was wholly focused on whipping their make-shift Avengers into shape for whatever threat lay ahead of them.

These were the thoughts floating in Steve’s head when Clint surprised him by opening his door and shouting, “Hidy-ho, neighbor!” Unsure if the phrase was a reference or not, Steve was happy to see Barton.

Throughout the ordeal in Sokovia, Hawkeye had been a lighthouse in the dark. Steve was very glad that he could call on him to assemble if the need arose. He had been shocked to meet Laura, and the kids at the farmhouse, but it made sense. Clint was stable in a manner unlike any of the other Avengers. Love and family could ground you through any storm- Steve had once had that in Bucky.

“Hey Hawkguy. I didn’t expected to see you around this month!”

“Really? Hill asked me to pick up a package for her and to drop it off here- she didn’t tell you about it?”

A hastily skimmed email flashed before Steve’s eyes as he nodded quickly. “Where’s the box? I can lift it, don’t want you throwing out your back.”

Clint flipped Steve off as he made his way back to the hallway.

Steve wasn’t expecting a woman to walk through the door, with Barton following behind.

“Ah, Clint? Is this the package?”

The woman immediately pulled a face worthy of sketching- expressions of confusion and irritation that would’ve rivaled any Irish fishwife from Steve’s old neighborhood. “I’m not a package, dude. Ms. Hill offered me a job here- well, it’s not really paid, but it’s a position _here_ so I’m not really concerned with money.”

 _That_ was what Maria had tried to tell him about. Hiring new agents had worried Steve, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“I see. Well, Ms- ah…”

Clint grinned like a choirboy as he helpfully supplied, “Lewis. Darcy Lewis. I met her in New Mexico when Blondie landed- let’s see- 4 years ago?”

Darcy turned and giggled at Barton, to Steve’s chagrin.

He did _not_ need more comedians on this facility.

“Ms. Lewis! Nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers.”

Steve held out his hand and awaited the inevitable awkward pause, which would be followed by some iteration of “I’m a huge fan!”

Darcy surprisingly did neither. Instead, she shook his hand and grabbed the handle of her suitcase again.

“Captain Rogers, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Thor always speaks highly of you. Just um, I was wondering if Maria made a mistake bringing me in here. It seems like you’ve got a crazy setup here, and I wouldn’t want to get in the way. I’m not much of a secret agent type, you know.”

Steve _did_ know. He wasn’t a secret agent either. And the nervous smile on Darcy’s face was rather endearing.

“Ms. Lewis, Maria Hill vetted you. That means you’re probably very qualified in whatever field of work you’re in.”

Clint muttered “I wouldn’t call fetching coffee a field of work”, and Darcy blushed a deep red.

“Thank you, Captain. Agent Birdbrain, would you care to show me to wherever I’m staying?” Turning on her heel, Darcy left the office, and Barton followed.

Steve glared at the departing Hawkeye as he sat back down. Clint could be a real ass sometimes.

Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed Maria.

“Hello? Yeah, she’s here.”

“No Maria, I don’t know what to do with her. I thought you were hiring agents, not baristas!”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it. Yes, I know that I should trust you. No, you’ve never failed me. Got it.”

Steve pressed “end call” with a lot more violence than he intended, and abruptly stood. He needed to clear his head, and a 20 mile run just might do the trick.

* * *

 

Darcy sat on her bed in her quarters. Well, quarters was a bit of an exaggeration. There was a suite of “pods” with just enough room for a bed, a chest of drawers, and a chair. She was in the women’s suite, which was nearly empty (equal opportunity hiring was clearly an issue here), except for one other pod. Barton had told her that these quarters were for trainees and staff- the higher ups got their own rooms, which made sense. Darcy tried to forget her idiotic behavior in front of Captain fuckin’ America, who was very tall and intimidating in person. He had been partially in uniform, it seemed, which just made him seem even more imposing.

Clint had been _awful_ and she could hardly believe that a half hour earlier she’d been pitying the man.

Fuck him. Fuck it all. She didn’t even know where she was supposed to be working. Plus she was incredibly jet lagged, and gross from her flight. Darcy grabbed her towel and toiletries from her suitcase and dragged herself to the built in locker room to have a shower.

After standing under the hot water for 20 minutes, Darcy brushed her teeth and pulled on some comfy jeans and a sweater with printed mountains on it. After plugging her iPod into its charger deck, she decided to go find the commissary (Hill had said free meals!) for an early dinner.

When Darcy returned, 45 minutes later, after getting lost twice and then being disappointed by the sorry excuse for a burger she had just consumed, her door was slightly ajar. Darcy immediately grabbed her pocket knife from her bra (it was a very secure hiding spot!) and edged into her pod. She felt silly, given the sheer smallness of the room, but she still felt like her space had been invaded.

Getting ready for bed was a quick affair, since there was no Jane to drag out of the lab. As Darcy clambered under the stiff military-grade sheets, she reached for her iPod to play her nighttime playlist. It was dead- which was odd considering she was positive that she had placed it securely in its dock. Shivering, Darcy glanced around her. Someone _had_ been in her room- very recently from the looks of it.

Too unnerved to sleep despite the jet-lag, Darcy pulled out her laptop from its case and began to compose an e-mail to Maria Hill regarding the exact nature of her position.

As typing filled the small space, a petite figure glided into a nearby pod. She allowed her powers to glance at the newcomer’s mind- after gauging the new woman as harmless, she entered her own quarters and retired for the night.

 

* * *

 

A floor above, the Black Widow frowned at a security feed in distaste while on the phone.

“Maria, why do I have to be the one going through the new kid’s stuff? It’s degrading- yes, I know we’re short staffed! But can’t you just make do without new people? It’s a huge security risk, especially considering our position at the moment.”

She listened to Maria explain, once again, why the new hires were necessary. Natasha let her mind wander as she watched the girl tap away at her laptop.

“Nat, are you listening?”

“Not really, Maria. What’s this girl gonna do, anyways? I went through her files- it’s all research for Dr. Foster, nothing pertinent to our mission.”

“Trust me, Natasha. I haven’t led you astray yet, have I?”

Natasha laughed at Maria’s old schtick and replied, “Don’t start with me Hill, I’ll kick your ass from here.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it. Listen, just put her in with the data herders for now. I think her CV said she’s fluent in a few languages. Find out which, and put her on monitoring chatter.”

“Got it. Anything else, Hill?”

Maria paused, which was out of the ordinary for the deathly efficient agent Natasha had worked with for all those years.

“Nat… are you doing okay?”

Struggling to control her irritation, Natasha huffed. “I’m fine. You don’t have to tiptoe around the fact that I got dumped by the Hulk, okay? I’m over it. Or I’ll be over it. I don’t have a choice- and no one can see me be this way, so I can’t be upset. So I’m fine. Totally, utterly, fine.”

Maria laughed. “Great speech. Did you write that yourself, or did you get Steve to help you out?”

Despite herself, Nat grinned. “What gave it away, the stuttering or the indignant righteousness in my tone?”

 


	2. Darcy Lewis and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rough beginnings for our heroes ~ evil fic author music in the background

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read, enjoy, review, and please let me know if anything doesn't make sense.  
> Also, if someone's dialogue is entirely in italics it's because it isn't in English

Darcy loved breakfast time, but not when she was accosted by intimidating women before her first bite of pancakes.

“I’m not sure I understand you, Agent…”

“Romanoff.”

“Agent Romanoff, I’m just confused about what you’re telling me. I’ve never monitored chatter before. Surely whoever hired me knew that prior to, well, hiring me?”

Darcy tried to keep her irritation from creeping into her voice, but she was genuinely flabbergasted. Maria Hill’s email had said her degree in Political Science had been taken into consideration when placing Darcy in her work force.

But monitoring chatter feeds was a little too out of Darcy’s wheelhouse for her to feel comfortable doing it.

And the woman they sent to speak with her wasn’t helping. Nothing short of flawless, Agent Romanoff was perhaps the most beautiful woman Darcy had ever seen.

She also seemed to be the deadliest person in the room- and people like Captain America were shoveling pancakes into their mouths across the canteen.

“Ms. Lewis, I assure you that your credentials were taken in account when you were selected for this position. From what your old SHIELD file says, you have an aptitude with certain languages? Farsi, and ah, some French?”

  
Darcy ignored the mention of _her_ _file_ (clichéd spy terminology, nothing more) and tried to formulate a coherent response.

“That’s actually not true.”

Romanoff’s perfectly arched left eyebrow arched and Darcy scrambled to eliminate the disbelief from the scary lady’s face.

“Let me finish! I do speak Farsi and French fluently, but SHIELD never bothered to finish my interview. I am _also_ fluent in Spanish, Latin American and Castilian. I’ve got an elementary understanding of Urdu, a little bit of Arabic, and if I’m lucky, I can even make out Russian. Oh, and I also speak Sokovian. Summer trip when I was 15 left me fairly fluent.”

The agent leveled a blank smile at Darcy, biting out “Ms. Lewis, that’s very impressive.”

“Thank you, but I don’t feel comfortable with this! I don’t want a job I’m unqualified for, even with the Avengers!”

Darcy’s voice had risen to a higher pitch, and she could tell that her cheeks had turned bright pink from anxiety. Agent Romanoff did not react physically, though she did step closer into Darcy’s personal space.

“Your concerns have been noted. But I suggest you report to your assigned supervisor immediately. For now, you will monitor chatter. And just an advance warning- there are no excuses here. This isn’t an internship with a scientist, Ms. Lewis. This is global defense. Get used to doing things you aren’t comfortable with.”

Darcy opened her mouth before closing it again, tears pricking behind her eyes.

Before the Black Widow could reply, she picked up her discarded tray and ran away as quickly as she could.

* * *

 

Steve watched Natasha scare the new girl out of the corner of his eye as he ate his breakfast. Sam had finished his pancakes and left to join the other recruits, whom Clint had graciously claimed as his “victims” for morning training.

The girl- Darcy, he remembered- seemed nervous, which seemed the appropriate response when first confronted with Natasha in interrogation mode.

Steve turned away as Natasha picked up her tray from the table Darcy had suddenly vacated, and headed towards him.

“Morning, Nat.”

“Morning grandpa. Glad to see you didn’t throw out your back getting out of bed this morning.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and snagged a piece of bacon from Natasha’s tray.

“So do I need to ask Sam to talk down the new girl? You seemed to rile her up something fierce.”

Something passed over Natasha’s face as she picked at her fruit.

“Everything okay? Is the girl dirty?”

Nat snorted quietly.

“Okay, so she’s clean. What’s wrong with her then?”

Softly, Natasha sighed. “She isn’t going to last. Hill got her hopes up with promises of a job fitting her credentials- lies, of course. It’s Foster that she wanted on board, not the lab flunky.”

“Ouch. That’s kind of judgmental, don’t you think? I though Hill had her monitoring chatter until she got back later this week?”

“Yeah, but she’s too smart to assume she’s qualified for chatter. She’s a kid, who by the way speaks about a hundred languages.”

Steve stored that tidbit away for later, and began to clear his tray.

“Natasha, we’ve come to a point where we don’t really have a choice in who we work with anymore. Hell, if I had a choice I’d never see Tony Stark ever again. But we have to trust Maria. She’s been doing a damn good job so far, and you know what?”

Natasha joined in as Steve mimicked, “Has she ever led you wrong before?”

“All right. Enough gossip, Rogers. I’ve got to go see what Barton’s done to our poor recruits.”

Steve watched as Natasha strode away, and shook his head. She was still shaky from the whole ordeal in Sokovia, which was strange for the resilient woman he’d come to trust. He supposed the matter with Bruce was more to blame for her odd behavior, though he’d never really understood her attraction to the scientist.

Love was funny that way.

But seeing Nat scare a naïve newcomer? That was out of character, even for a chameleon like the Black Widow.

Putting his tray away, Steve turned on his tablet and opened up his schedule. _Phone call with Tony Stark- 0700 hours. ”_ Goddammnit.”

* * *

 

It turned out that monitoring chatter wasn’t above Darcy’s pay grade.

A disinterested middle aged woman had led her to a desk, handed her headphones, and pointed to a list of keywords to listen for. If she got a ping, she noted the phone number and its owner down as quickly as possible. It was tedious, and definitely a job for a computer, but Darcy kept that thought to herself.

The conversations were predominantly in English, and utterly innocuous. By lunch time, Darcy had a grand total of 7 pings- 3 of which were regarding pork sales in Mexico.

Skipping lunch seemed to be the appropriate approach to avoiding meeting new people, but Darcy’s supervisor kicked her out of the room for a whole hour, and nothing less.

Trudging to the canteen, Darcy watched as men and women in sweat suits ran laps around a field. The sight reminded her of the army bases she’d grown up on as a girl. After her husband died in combat, Sally Lewis had elected to take an administrative position with the Army.

Her mom’s career as a soldier in the US Armed Forces had been highly decorated, but all Darcy had cared about was her mom being safe.

Darcy grew up surrounded by carefully controlled chaos. She’d lived in half a dozen countries, and made many friends. She may not have kept in touch with the people she’d gotten close to, but she did remember their languages.

Her mom had always said that Darcy had the “gift of gab”, but it was usually in reference to her daughter’s tendency to talk too much.

At Culver, Darcy had fully realized her skill with languages, but a lack of a linguistics major led her to choosing Political Science instead.

One internship later, Darcy had gotten no closer to her goals of working in politics or with languages. And this had been her last attempt to get into the field. It seemed like this attempt was going to fail as well. Darcy could pick up on the strange tension at Avengers HQ- mostly between the original Avengers themselves.

She’d gone over the encounter with Agent Romanoff in her mind a dozen times since morning, and she had come to the conclusion that she hadn’t been the cause of the woman’s weird aggressiveness.

There was no reason for the Black Widow to be rude to her. Darcy was self-aware enough to recognize that she wasn’t particularly important to anyone there, least of all an actual Avenger.

Still, she didn’t like feeling unwelcome or worse, in the way. She would stick out the job- her pride and career options gave her no other choice- and she would avoid Agent Romanoff under all circumstances.

* * *

 

Steve’s stomach was growling- loudly- by the time he made his way to the mess hall for lunch. He’d been in uniform that morning for training, but an unfortunate accident with Clint, some mud, and Vision’s cape had forced him to change into civvies for the rest of the day.

Craning his neck to see what was for lunch, Steve got in line. He was so engrossed in his search, he almost didn’t notice the new girl standing next to him.

She was shorter than average, he noticed, though he supposed he was taller than average. Her glasses from the day before were gone, probably in exchange for contacts.

Realizing that she knew he was staring, Steve tried to salvage the interaction.

“Hey, how’s your first day going...? It's Darcy, right?”

The girl grimaced as she examined the limp piece of bread on her plate.

“Not going horribly would be the accurate description of this day. And yeah, that’s me.”

“I… I’m sorry? Can I do something to help you?”

The girl snorted just like Natasha did when she was laughing at him, and smiled lopsidedly.

“As if Captain America has time to help me. Don’t worry. I’ve been through worse.”

Steve’s stomach clenched slightly. He supposed everyone here knew some kind of “worse”. It’s what drove them to working together on the impossible task of peace.

By the time he snapped out of his reverie, Darcy had scooted her tray forward and was accepting a plate of questionable pasta from the worker behind the counter.

Steve got his own lunch, and sat at his usual table in the corner.

He had moments like the one in the line a lot, lately. Sam told him that he needed to Talk to someone- talk with a capital T because he would be paying a psychiatrist to listen to him- but Steve didn’t want to talk about it.

It wasn’t his old fashioned upbringing preventing him from discussing his feelings, either. He’d tried, a couple of times. Natasha had been reassuring, but she didn’t recognize his constant rejection of her matchmaking for what it really was.

70 years on ice had left Steve raw. Though the cold had rendered him unfeeling for decades, he had thawed into a world that left him reeling with emotion. Everything he saw, everyone he spoke to- each experience was a silent blow, chipping away at the man he used to be.

That’s why he avoided romance. Giving up Peggy the first time had been excruciating- her photograph in his compass was the last thing he’d seen before the plane hit the ground.

He was awake now, and Peggy was miraculously alive- but he’d lost her again. She’d lived on, founding SHIELD, fighting everyone and everything on her path to creating a safer world. Of course a woman like Peggy had found someone else. And he was happy she’d _lived,_ had kids and grandkids who could visit her in the nursing home, but a part of him only wanted her to be _his._

So he avoided romance.  And he ate his pasta alone, instead of with the new girl. He might have wanted to pursue further conversation with Darcy, but past experience had taught Steve to avoid attachment.

Visions of Bucky on the bridge filled his mind as he scraped the last bit of burnt noodle from his plate.

No, it was easier living a solitary life. He had friends, and teammates, and that was enough for him. It would have to be enough.

* * *

 

Natasha was _tired_ of training newbies. She had never been the most patient teacher, mostly because of her own unconventional education in the assassin arts, but this particular batch of trainees?

She was losing her cool, rapidly. It wasn’t that they couldn’t fight- she’d seen Sam hold his own spectacularly back in DC, and Rhodey was called War Machine for a reason. Vision and the Maximoff girl were equally talented, and would be formidable opponents with the correct training. But together? The New Avengers Initiative was proving to be a real bust.

Falcon had all the bad habits of a man who’d fought with a single partner for an extended period of time, and it meant that he reacted to different scenarios with a single set response.

War Machine was better, but that was probably because Rhodey was accustomed to fighting with _Tony Stark_ , the least consistent human being to ever walk the Earth. And he was army trained, like Sam, so they each had hand-to-hand down pat. But they were rigid, unaccustomed to each other’s movements.

Vision was another story- his powers seemed limitless, as did his strength, but his skills meant nothing when combined with mere mortals (Maximoff) who couldn’t even throw a punch.

Natasha didn’t trust the Sokovian girl very much, though she did trust in her telepathy. That was the problem really. Despite her performance against Ultron, Natasha was resentful of Wanda Maximoff for meddling with Bruce’s mind. He had enough demons, and the girl had had the audacity to _play_ with them, to toy until the man broke into beast.

She wasn’t very proud of herself- well, she was used to that. But Natasha was objective, and ever since she and Bruce had begun their “thing” she’d lost that objectivity.

Love wasn’t supposed to make you weak, according to Clint (who had the best relationship ever), but there she was. The world’s deadliest assassin, mooning over the guy who dumped her.

Training Scarlet Witch was difficult, because it required being in close quarters with her, and she made Nat nervous. The witch had very limited combat training, and Natasha would never allow an Avenger to rely solely upon their special powers in a fight.

That was why, at 5 PM, a mere hour before dinner was going to be served in the mess (she was _hungry_ ), Natasha was making Wanda Maximoff do burpees alone on a grassy field.

Circling around the sweating girl, Nat made an attempt at encouragement. She didn't enjoy the girl's struggling, but a part of her was glad to see Wanda suffer, if only through cardio.

“Come on, just five more! You can’t go into battle with just your mind control. Your body is a tool- sharpen it, hone it. You can make every part of you a weapon, Maximoff! Just _try._ ”

Wanda leveled a glare so sharp at Nat she almost raised her fists in defense.

“I _am_ trying, Agent Romanoff!” Her accent was more pronounced when upset, Nat noted absently. It was something the Red Room had trained out of her early on.

“Again!”

Wanda did try, again, but her legs were shaking with fatigue, causing her to trip over her own feet. Defiantly, the teenager remained sprawled on the ground, eyes trained at Natasha’s feet.

Summoning a modicum of calm from her reserve, Natasha tried reasoning with her.

“Listen, Wanda. I get it. This is new to you. But you don’t have the option of failure. Just… just come back tomorrow with a better attitude, okay? It’ll help us both.”

“Pah! You talk of attitude?! You are the one who does not trust me enough to look me in the eye! Admit it, Romanoff, you detest me!”

Unprepared for the wave of pure anger aimed at her, Natasha backed away slowly.

“Wanda, hit the showers before you do something you’re going to regret- that’s an order.”

The teenager stood and stalked off, hands clenching and unclenching, red waves of energy dancing at her fingertips.

Natasha shuddered, despite herself, and gazed out at the facility sprawling before her.

Was she being harsh? Had she become the very thing she’d detested- an unfeeling monster?

Natasha began the trek back to HQ, remembering her words to the Lewis girl that morning. She’d been rude, overstepped professional boundaries. Why had she done that? The girl’s concerns were valid and normally she’d appreciate someone clearsighted enough to voice them. But she was _panicking_ to get this team into shape, this headquarters into working order.

Something in Natasha’s gut was making her nervous, and she hated that. It was making her sloppy, and unfocused.

Maria wasn’t going to be happy about that.

She needed to apologize to Darcy Lewis. Maybe she’d consider apologizing to Wanda as well, though that possibility was a long shot, even for her.

Natasha was nothing if not agonizingly aware of her own failings.

* * *

 

After a breathtakingly flavorless dinner of chicken breast and green beans, Darcy dragged herself back to her quarters to get ready for bed. It was only 8 PM, and she was exhausted. Her supervisor, Glen, was way nicer than she’d thought, and had offered Darcy a more detailed rundown of the operation after lunch.

Two cups of coffee later, Darcy felt marginally better about her new job. Glen had promised that she’d put in a word with the higher ups to consider moving Darcy to an assignment monitoring a non-English speaking region, after a few weeks.

Work was more bearable after that, and Darcy was looking forward to seeing her coworkers the next day. She wasn’t good at being unsociable, but avoiding the Black Widow meant scarfing dinner down and sprinting out of the mess hall in 15 minutes.

Darcy checked her cell phone and saw two texts from Jane that simply featured a picture of an empty Poptart wrapper and some unhighlighted data streams from her quantum thingamajig.

Laughing as she texted back, Darcy gathered her towel and toiletries. Despite the sedate desk job, her clothes smelled a bit stale, so she found her collapsible laundry basket in her suitcase and made a laundry pile.

Grabbing her iPod and plugging in her headphones, Darcy put on her robe and headed to the locker room for a shower. Darcy almost didn’t notice the snuffling noise from the shower stall furthest from her. It wasn’t till she’d turned off her music and put her iPod on top of her pile of stuff on the floor that she heard a woman crying. It was the quiet kind of crying, that one can’t control but also doesn’t want anyone to notice.

Darcy had done plenty of that in her own day, and knew what kind of sadness could trigger it.

She quickly rinsed shampoo out of her hair and ignored her conditioner. Hastily pulling her robe back on, Darcy walked towards the shower stall in question. Trying to make as much noise as she could, she called out, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

The snuffling abruptly stopped, as did the shower.

The woman blew her nose, hard, and poked her head out of the shower.

Darcy’s heart broke- this wasn’t a woman, this was a _girl,_ probably still in her teens from the looks of it. Makeup had smeared around her eyes from the combined efforts of her tears and the shower, making her big eyes seem huge.

Stiffly, the girl replied in slightly accented English. “I am fine. Thank you. Please, do not worry and go.” The girl turned back to the shower when Darcy’s ears perked, and before she could think, she blurted out, “Sorry, but you’re Sokovian!”

The girl whipped around so quickly her hair plastered itself to her face.

“How do you know zat?!”

Darcy realized her mistake, and tried her best to explain in the girl’s native language.

_“I am meaning no offense. I am a student- of tonguing! When I was a girl I live on an Army base in Sokovia. I am very poor in my efforts of speaking this language, but I try. Please, tell me- are you alright?”_

The girl’s face crumpled as soon as she stopped talking, and without thought Darcy stepped forward and wrapped the girl up in the towel hanging by her stall. Leading her to a bench, she tried to calm her down.

_“It is okay. It is okay, friend. We are safe, you can talking to me.”_

The girl shook her head, and giggled through the tears. She saw the confusion on Darcy’s face and spoke in English. “Your Sokovian accent is horrible, and you are mixing up tenses very much.”

Darcy laughed and teased back, “Oh, that’s all part of my plan to make you think I’m a dumb American. I’m really a super spy!”

The girl tensed up, and Darcy saw that she had touched on a sensitive subject.

“You aren’t a fan of super spies, huh? No worries. I’m not really a spy. Just a very boring desk girl, at your service. My name’s Darcy, by the way. And we’re both naked.”

The girl giggled again, and Darcy saw that she couldn’t be more than 18 years old.

“I am Wanda. I am… part of this new team.”

“Oh! Then that means you work with the cool kids like Cap!”

Wanda stood, and began to dress behind a row of lockers.

“We actually do not see much of the Captain. He is occupied in other matters, so we are trained by another.”

“Another? Who?”

Wanda stepped out from behind the lockers dressed in a long t-shirt with the word “SPEEDY” emblazoned on it in bright blue letters.

“The Assassin trains us. Romanoff.”

Darcy tried to hide her surprise as she also got dressed. Wanda watched as Darcy awkwardly tried to shrug off her robe, clearly not paying attention to the older woman’s discomfort.

Silence fell over them as each stood before the mirrors, brushing their hair.

Wanda finally piped up as Darcy was taking out her contacts.

“I can tell you don’t like her. I read your mind, and I can see that she had made you upset.”

Darcy poked herself in the eye so hard she nearly fell over.

Spluttering in pain, she holds her eye with one hand and wildly gesticulates with the other.

“How do you know that?! Mind reading?”

“Yes, actually. If you want, I will tell you.”

Darcy glanced at the girl once more, but she sensed no malice from her. There was just something… missing from her, is all.

“Okay. But we’re going to need to find me some food, stat. I hate the food here, and can’t cook myself anything without breaking into the kitchen.”

  
Wanda smiled, slightly, and lifted up her chin. “I know where the Avengers keep their- what you would call junk food. Come with me?”

Unsure if that was the best course of action, Darcy waffled. There was something in Wanda’s eyes that implored her to say yes, though, and Darcy was a sucker for befriending small brunette women with big brown eyes.

* * *

 

Steve sometimes got hungry at night. And by sometimes, he meant every night. His metabolism ran four times faster than the average man, meaning he was also hungrier sooner. By 11 PM, his stomach was growling hard enough for him to drag himself off his sofa and into the common area.

Since Natasha was already in her room, Steve knew he would be eating a solitary snack.

Or so he thought. When he walked into the expansive kitchen, a startling array of bowls and ingredients were scattered on the countertops. The oven was on, and he could smell the makings of what had to be chocolate chip cookies.

Ignoring his protesting stomach, Steve left the kitchen hoping to find the maker of the mess.

He didn’t have to search long- two figures sat on stools over at the wet bar (installed by Stark with his own needs in mind) talking quietly.

Quietly padding in his sock feet, Steve realized it was the Maximoff girl and Lewis- an odd couple that frankly alarmed him.

Before he could clear his throat to announce his presence, Darcy suddenly sat straight up.

“My cookies!”

Scrambling off the barstool, Darcy slammed straight into Steve, knocking him off balance.

“OOF! Ow, fuck! My ankle!”

Steve immediately straightened into a crouch near Darcy, who was clutching her ankle and swearing like a soldier.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

Darcy looked up and finally realized who she’d knocked over. “Oh god, Steve- I mean Captain America- I’m so sorry! Wanda made me come here, and we just got hungry so we decided we wanted snacks but there weren’t any goodies so I decided to make cookies! Which are burning!”

Darcy stood on unsteady feet and launched herself at the oven, barely remembering to grab oven mitts as she yanked the door open and pulled out a sheet tray.

Wanda had run after Darcy, mugs of cocoa in hand, and giddily grabbed a hot cookie off the tray. Cramming it into her mouth, the telepath’s eyes flew wide open as she burned her tongue with melted chocolate.

Half amused and half irritated at the chaos, Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a cookie of his own. Darcy was the only one who seemed guilty, and kept apologizing.

Unsure of how to get her to be quiet, Steve grabbed a second cookie and held it to the girl’s mouth.

Darcy shut up quickly and took a bite of the cookie. Realizing how weird his feeding her was made Steve stammer his goodbyes. He retreated with as much dignity as he could, but he could hear peals of laughter from the witch while Darcy quietly banged her forehead against the fridge.

Shutting the door behind him, Steve slumped in relief at being alone.

He hated to admit it, but he really wanted to go back out there and laugh with the girls- with Darcy.

Shaking his head, Steve returned to his desk and booted up his laptop.

There was too much work for him to fool around.

* * *

 

Maria was very ready to return to base. Stark was being a maniac, lately, calling in meetings with politicians and bureaucrats and shadowy super-PAC people- Pepper had no explanation, and Maria really didn’t want to know.

All she wanted was to grab a glass of pinot, take a bath, and ask Romanoff about her new recruit’s progress.

She was sure everything had gone perfectly to plan.


	3. Steve Rogers loves Sriracha sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read, enjoy, and please review! I want this work to focus on the women and their friendships first, and romance second. :) not to say that I won't write awful smut eventually, but just... plot has to come first.

Maria sat at her office desk and gazed at her computer screen, utterly shocked.

_Was it possible?_

_Could it really be?_

Her customized, state of the art Pepper Potts Approved online daily planner was a marvel of modern technology. It kept all of Maria’s tasks, duties, and scheduled appointments like an ordinary planner, except it was hooked up to Stark’s secure servers- she could schedule a meeting with Kim Jong-Un or Kim Kardashian, without fear of the media finding out.

Normally Maria had 15-20 tasks to accomplish on a normal work day, excluding world-ending catastrophes and Tony Stark PR disasters, meaning she’d work from 7 AM to 8 PM most days.

She’d returned from Stark’s offices in the city to hundreds of emails, orders to place, and dozens of tiny tasks only she had clearance to complete.

It had taken her a few weeks to feel caught up again, but that was Maria’s way. She was never fully comfortable until she’d worked to a point where she was ahead of schedule.

She glanced at her watch, and then back at the screen.

_You have no more tasks or appointments scheduled for today!_

Maria could scarcely comprehend the words.

She sat back in her swivel chair and slowly spun, fingers lightly strumming on her thighs. It was one PM on a beautiful summer day- a Friday, as a matter of fact- and she was _free?_

It was nearly unimaginable.

Checking her phone and tablet, Maria made the executive decision to give herself the remainder of the day off. It was Fried Chicken Friday in the mess hall, and she _really_ wanted to get there before all the dark meat ran out.

Leisurely walking to lunch, Maria tried to ignore the tension in her shoulders. Stark had been positively manic since Sokovia, attempting to coerce all parties involved into forgiving him.

Mostly his repentance involved lots of money being thrown around in needless places- Pepper was furious and worried about Tony, but Maria couldn’t help her with that particular challenge. She’d done her assigned job and hurried back to base as soon as possible. She wanted to introduce herself to the new recruits, as well as get a handle on Avengers training. As soon as she’d returned, however, the Avengers (what was left of them) had to assemble for a minor spot of trouble in the Ukraine.

(Activists who bombed factories were no longer activists, especially if they were promoting the end of immigration in a country that was 60% foreign to the area)

Barring her distaste for Eastern Europe, Maria packed up her bag and followed the Avengers who were down Thor and the Hulk, and needed all the backup they could find.

Standing in line, Maria chatted with Dolores the cook about special menu items for the summer. She wanted to see the look on Natasha’s face when the “Black Widow Waffles” recipe was introduced that next week.

Scanning the cafeteria for a seat, Maria saw one of her new recruits with her other new recruits arguing. Picking up her tray, she began to walk over.

“It’s sweating, Wanda. The chicken’s not supposed to sweat when it’s dead!” The witch giggled and flicked a green pea at Darcy’s glasses.

“You Americans fry everything, even your chickens are fat! In Sokovia, when Piet- when I used to visit farmland, the chickens would be stretched out, skinny like rat-dogs.”

“Rat dogs?” A new voice chimed in.

Wanda and Darcy both looked up to see their boss standing in front of them- dressed in civvies and holding a tray of what had to be 5 pieces of fried chicken.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” Maria waited for Wanda to scoot over and sat down, immediately digging into her meal with relish. Darcy tried to resume their previous conversation.

“Rat dogs? Seriously, Wanda, your English is better than that.”

“Rat dog describes Sokovian chickens perfectly. Have you not seen the magical wizard boy films? Harry Potter?”

Darcy accidentally snorted the water she’d been sipping and choked for a minute, as Wanda snickered and Maria quietly observed.

Gasping for air, Darcy glared at Wanda. “Is that even a valid question? I’m wearing a fucking Hufflepuff beanie- sorry Hill- a freaking Hufflepuff beanie!”

Maria laid down her fork and leaned in to stage whisper. “You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m not really your boss. You can cuss around me like adults do, I won’t tell the teacher.”

  
Darcy laughed and high-fived Maria, to her surprise. 

Wanda stole Darcy’s roll and stuffed half of it in her mouth, chewing and talking at once.

“If I must spell it out for you, rat dog is like Draco Malfoy in fourth Harry Potter film- skinny, pale, ugly!”

Maria finished chewing her bite (meaningfully) and replied, “You’re talking about a ferret, aren’t you? Rat dog kinda makes sense in that case.”

Darcy boggled her eyes and groaned. “I swear, I’ve lived all around the world and learned a lot of languages, but nothing is worse than trying to speak Wanda!”

Maria didn’t speak much, choosing to listen to the ludicrous jokes Darcy cracked to make Wanda laugh. To an outsider it was obvious how hard Darcy was working to cheer up her friend, and it didn’t seem as if Wanda had noticed either.

Hill had respect for an agent smart enough to help a teammate when they weren’t doing well. The job they did was difficult enough without understanding co-workers. Darcy was clearly compassionate, considering the fact that she was 6 years Wanda’s senior and still spending time with her.

She sat and listened for a few more minutes before excusing herself. Clearing away her tray, Maria headed for her quarters. She needed to take a nap- it would be her first one in months, and she was looking forward to it.

* * *

  
“For the last time, Steve, I’m not taking any time off!”

Natasha hopped off Steve’s desk, glaring daggers at her friend. He’d been haranguing her for days about the results of her training sessions with the New Avengers.

“Dammit, Natasha. You know I wouldn’t ask this of you, but I’ve gotten too many complaints! You’re the most qualified person to train these new recruits, but you’re scaring them off! Even veterans like Sam and Rhodey are starting to doubt their decision to join up.”

Struggling to keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, Natasha groaned.

“I’m not a Little League coach, Rogers, don’t ask me to baby grown men!”

“What about Scarlet Witch? She’s not an adult, and you’re tougher on her than anyone else!”

Twinges of something unpleasant unfurled in Natasha’s stomach, but Steve wouldn’t see any signs of her discomfort.

(Red Room training prevents Widows from showing emotion. Ever.)

“I’m working the hardest on her. She’s inexperienced, weak, helpless in combat situations-“

“And she’s 19. She’s a kid. She’s traumatized, and she’s grieving. Wanda lost her brother less than two months ago, Natasha.”

Steve rifled through a pile of papers on his desk, selecting one in particular. He glanced at it and then handed it off to Natasha.

“Someone shoved an anonymous note under my door last Thursday. I think you should check it out. Dismissed.”

“What?! You can’t dismiss me-“

“I’m still in charge Nat. I don’t like it, but you need to take a day off. Go. Do something unrelated to work. Also, would it kill you to take off the catsuit? It scares the baby agents.”

Scowling, Natasha stalked out of Steve’s office.

Once she was safely ensconced in the elevator, she read the handwritten note.

_“I’m not sure how the Avengers handle HR complaints, but here’s one- no one has the right to make someone feel so bad about themselves that they cry in the locker room every night. Whoever they put in charge of training needs evaluation for basic human emotions, stat. I think it’s a problem, and I’ll know if nothing has been done to fix it.”_

Natasha stared at the piece of paper, open mouthed, until the elevator door dinged.

Slowly, she stepped out onto her floor and walked on autopilot to her rooms.

Her quarters were pitch black except for the early afternoon sunlight peeking through the blinds. Natasha didn’t bother to open them, instead choosing to lie down on her sofa and re-read the note. The handwriting was loopy and feminine to her trained eye, and she quickly eliminated several candidates who could have written the note.

A memory from breakfast two days ago suddenly came to mind. The Maximoff girl had been taking pictures of herself with her phone and grinning widely. Who had she been sending them to? A friend?

Who?

She could feel herself obsessing, taste the bile in the back of her throat.

Was she unfeeling?

Impossible, the thing with Bruce proved the opposite. She was riddled with emotions, weak with love and caring and adoration.

It was what made her so vulnerable to Bruce’s departure- what kept her up at night for days until she passed out from exhaustion.

Natasha absentmindedly began removing her gear- gloves, Widow’s bite gauntlets, utility belt, firearms- all placed in a secure location she could easily access from any point in her quarters.

Her boots went in her closet, as did her tactical suit. Steve was right about her getup scaring the newbies, but she’d liked their fear. It kept them from talking to her too much, which would risk her snapping at them.

Better cold and aloof than up front and rude, right?

Natasha stripped off her underwear in the bathroom, turning the shower on to its hottest setting.

Stepping in, she automatically set about washing herself. Red Room training dictated that Widows must be meticulous in their self-care- otherwise they were imperfect, incapable of being effective.

Old habits die hard, but Natasha was okay with a strict beauty regimen. She could get ready for a black tie event with her eyes closed, usually allowing her to prep for the mission she was inevitable undercover on.

As she briskly scrubbed her feet with a pumice stone, Natasha realized who had written the note. Turning off the shower and wrapping herself in a robe, she logged onto her laptop. Sitting on crosslegged on the bed, she looked up Darcy Lewis’ SHIELD file. She swiftly discarded it for its sparseness and began to dig deeper. Files from Culver University revealed an above average student with a penchant for disagreeing with professors. Darcy had graduated via correspondence in 2014- 2 ½ years later than expected, but summa cum laude nonetheless.

Pausing her search, Natasha hugged herself and shivered. She’d been abominably rude to the new girl, and for no reason. At least she could attribute her coldness towards the Witch to their initial encounters. Darcy had just been a conscientious worker, making sure she could do the task assigned to her.

It would make sense for her to find Maximoff. Thor had always spoken of Midgardian compassion changing him for the better, and Darcy was a friend he’d fondly reminisce about.

The twinges of guilt became full pangs in her stomach, worsening as she read about Darcy’s involvement in evacuating Puente Antigua when the Destroyer attack. Delving further, Natasha found an Instagram account with a picture of Darcy aiming some kind of remote at towers during the Dark Elf Attack in London. The blurriness of the shot did little to hide the fierce expression on Darcy’s face, pale and grim as an avenging angel.

She’d been judgmental and cruel, things she’d promised herself she’d abandon in her personal life. Being harsh, being cutting only worked during ops and interrogations. Clint had showed her that much during their tenure as Strike Team Delta, and she had thought she wouldn’t revert to her old ways that quickly after being hurt.

Wetness dripped off Natasha’s nose onto her bare thigh, surprising her out of her reverie.

Fortifying herself with a deep breath, Natasha got under the covers. She needed rest. Tomorrow she would rectify her misdeeds.

She had to make things right- with Darcy, that was.

The Maximoff girl… she needed time to fix the mistakes with her.

* * *

Darcy had a habit of picking up strays.

Whether they were kittens on her mom’s army bases or supernaturally powered teenage girls or astrophysicists, she had a way of attracting wayward souls in need of TLC. Coaxing Jane into eating and recording numerical data had been Darcy’s way of nurturing the tiny woman, and it had led to an unbreakable friendship.

Unfortunately, Wanda was a much tougher nut to crack. The girl had walls up to her eyebrows, keeping out anyone wanting to get close to her. Darcy wasn’t cowed, after her first night comforting Wanda with cookies and sighing over Steve Rogers’ perfect ass.

She made a point to find Wanda the next morning, sitting next to her and resuming their topic of conversation from the night before (boxer-briefs were the only option for hot men, no exceptions) without batting an eyelash.

Two days later, Wanda would silently pop up like a friendly ghost next to Darcy at mealtimes. After a week, Darcy had a new neighbor in the ladies quarters. After 9 days, Wanda told Darcy about Pietro, and Ultron, and HYDRA.

Darcy didn’t say anything that night- she just listened, quietly, and handed Wanda tissues as the girl sobbed over her mistakes and losses. She could relate to making the wrong choice- she’d never allied with a neo-Nazi organization (Wanda was Jewish just like her, which made the fact even more mind-boggling), but she knew what it was like to be lost.

When it got too dark, even the best of people falter and stumble.

Plus, Wanda was still a kid. American education system be damned, 19 wasn’t nearly old enough to be making life-altering decisions.

Tucking away any judgy-ness, Darcy instead focused on the fact that Wanda still cried while showering every night. It wasn’t so much a sign of depression as it was Wanda releasing her frustration from a day of abortive training with the Black Widow. Though her control over her powers was increasing by the day, Wanda reported that she was still “shit at burpees and running circuits”. Darcy could _really_ relate to the helplessness of being physically unfit.

Try being the clumsy daughter of the most physically fit woman in the US Army- literally- Darcy’s mom held the women’s record for most pull ups at West Point Academy.

Unable to help Wanda improve with her training, Darcy decided to try another tack- bureaucracy and political obfuscation.

She’d studied enough about Captain America to know that he genuinely did not like bullies- and after meeting the man in the (perfect) flesh, she believed it. One passive aggressively worded note later, Darcy left Wanda’s fate in the hands of America’s golden son.

* * *

 

Steve was having the dream again. He didn’t hold a grudge against Scarlet Witch, but damned if her vision didn’t haunt his dreams ever since. Peggy, the dancing, the blood spreading on the uniform like a blooming rose-

He wasn’t at his best. Punching a bag or jogging couldn’t quiet his mind anymore, and lately Natasha had become distant. He’d been forced to back off from his friendship with Sam since the Falcon had become an Avenger. Training was a full time endeavor, and Sam was a devoted student.

Thor might have been helpful to have around, but he was off-planet on princely business regarding the Infinity Stones- another burden weighting down Steve.

After his confrontation with Natasha, he was sorely wishing he could get drunk. Thor’s stingy ass had taken his Asgardian mead with him, so Steve had to content himself with a beer from his personal fridge.

After that, he’d tried watching TV. He made it through two episodes of Chopped on Food Network before realizing that he was starving- even though he’d eaten a huge pizza Dolores had specially baked for him that night. Steve didn’t like the way his appetite dictated his schedule, and tried to force himself to go to sleep. One nightmare later, he conceded defeat.

Pulling a shirt on, he trudged out of his rooms to the communal kitchen. Hopefully there would be a couple of rotisserie chickens in the fridge for him to scarf down with Sriracha, which he’d accidentally put on a sandwich instead of ketchup the week before.

Instead, he found a mop of curly brown hair fast asleep at the kitchen bar, head pillowed in arms. Steve thought about waking up Darcy (who else could it be? There were three women who knew this kitchen existed). She seemed comfy, and someone deserved to get some sleep that night, even if it wasn’t Steve. He found his desired chickens, and opted to microwave them with some leftover mac and cheese. Listening to Darcy quietly snore, Steve carefully removed his plate from the microwave and shut the door, settling on the barstool next to Darcy to eat. She was doing well with the chatter, according to her supervisor. She’d caught quite a few hits from all over the world because of her linguistic talents, and she’d made friends with her coworkers in under a week. Steve had stopped believing in fully functioning interpersonal relationships after his own experiences, but Darcy gave him hope.

Plus, she’d befriended the Scarlet Witch, who’d been worrying him for weeks. Before, she’d skip meals and get into shouting matches with Nat at practice. After Darcy showed up, Wanda would actually eat, and he’d seen the two women jogging on the trail outside together.

It was good for someone normal to be around. It helped with the overwhelming amount of “not normal” they had to deal with.

5 minutes later, finished devouring his snack. Steve used his fork to scrape the chicken carcasses into the trash. Quickly rinsing the plate, he loaded the dishwasher. Darcy awoke with a start when he accidentally slammed the dishwasher door shut.

“Whuzzat?! What- oh Steve! Sorry, I know I keep showing up here.” Attempting to stifle his grin, Steve instead pointed to the corner of his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

Darcy’s hands immediately flew to her mouth. “Oh god, I’ve drooled everywhere. Don’t tell me I drooled on you?!”

“No, no, I’m drool free. But I am wondering why you’re here minus your shadow.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Wanda asked me to meet me here, then flaked! Teenagers, what can you say?”

Dressed in worn plaid pajamas and a Culver sweatshirt, Darcy seemed relaxed in a way Steve hadn’t felt in almost a century. He felt buttoned up too tight, skin stretched over muscles he still didn’t recognize some mornings.

Strolling over to the fridge, Darcy casually began to pull out bread and peanut butter. “Sorry to rob you of your food, but since I have to wait about 6 more hours for nourishment…”  
Immediately concerned, Steve joined Darcy at the fridge and pulled out bacon and jam. “No one goes hungry here, Darcy. Let me know if you want some kind of snack bar for agents and trainees, I can get Stark on it.”

“Hey, you remembered my name dude! I’m totally gonna tell my grandkids about that.”

Laughing, they set upon making snacks.

Steve stopped frying bacon long enough to shoot a look at Darcy, who was mechanically assembling half a dozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

She’d rightfully assumed that he was going to eat (he was always down to eat, truth be told), and soon they were back at the bar, munching on PB&J’s with bacon.

Without a word, Darcy handed Steve a sandwich as soon as he came close to finishing the first one. It was companionable, and reminded Steve of nights around a campfire with the Howling Commandos in France.

“Penny for your thoughts, Cap?”

“Not really. Gathering wool.”

“Well, gathering wool is understandable for a man at your stage of life.”

Steve forgot himself for a moment and lightly shoved Darcy, who snorted with laughter.

“You’re a dork, Steve Rogers. Who’d have thought it?”

Sighing, Steve realized that he was breaking his rule about not getting close to people.

_Damn the rules._

He reached for another sandwich only to find that none remained. Darcy silently handed Steve a banana from a nearby fruit bowl, and smiled.

_I’m in trouble._

  


 

 

 

 

 


	4. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world..." - Yeats, "The Second Coming"
> 
> Things come to a head, and Darcy has to be just a little bit better at her job than she bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is choppy and odd for me but I struggled to put something out so here y'all go! Please let me know what you think!

Wanda grinned happily at Darcy as she slurped on her popsicle. The truck they’d borrowed was rusty, but it only had a few bullet holes in the door so Darcy had deemed it acceptable. The late summer sun was hot enough to force the girls to blast the A/C, resulting in a weird whistling noise which Darcy insisted was also acceptable. The air was redolent with the scent of cheese puffs and watermelon, mingled with the acrid odor of melting tar on the roads. Darcy should have been relaxed, but she was acutely aware of her surroundings, nerves on edge.

The drive had been unplanned; in fact, nothing about the hours prior to that moment had gone according to any plan.

Darcy was used to cluster-fuck FUBAR situations. She’d fought Dark Elves and dodged evil robots- but she should have known that her ugliest disaster to date would be the product of an anguished teenage girl’s emotional breakdown.

 

6 HOURS EARLIER:

“Again!”

Darcy winced in sympathy as Wanda dangled from the pull up bar in the training room, and took a sip from her green juice. An identical cup of sludge sat next to her on the bench, awaiting the conclusion of Wanda’s private session with the Black Widow.

She’d spent the past 3 months on the base doing her job as a chatter analyst, and she’d become known for her skill with language. She was now allowed sit in on a few meetings a week regarding “diplomatic trips” to foreign countries Darcy had experience with. Agent Hill had taken to sending Darcy memos with questions regarding certain cultures she’d had experience with.

Three weeks earlier, Maria had even asked Darcy if she would help her prep for a Stark Industries meeting with Congress by researching US privacy laws and restrictions of freedoms set by the NSA. It was as close to Political Science as she’d ever gotten, and it thrilled Darcy to excel at her job.

Sadly, Wanda was not settling in as easily. Darcy had gotten close to her younger friend, and worried about her mental health. For a Sokovian telepath with the power to fly and destroy cities, Wanda was very fragile. Her nerves were constantly frayed, and her physical training was the root cause. The note slipped under Captain America’s door had only done a little to improve the situation.

The Black Widow had scaled back on her efforts to turn Wanda into a killing machine. She’d settled on getting the girl into shape so she could run a 6 minute mile, and to teach her to defend herself. It was fine for the first few weeks. Darcy was glad to see the pinched look disappear from Wanda’s face; she might have even noticed a few extra pounds on the girl’s tiny frame.

Things had gotten better- and then…

“You can do it, Wanda!” Darcy winced again as Wanda dropped from the pull-up bar to the mat with a pathetic thump. The session had been a resounding failure, as Wanda had barely ran 2 miles before she had vomited in a bucket by the treadmill. The pushups were dismal, but Black Widow managed to coax 20 out of Wanda before she gave up. Finally, Romanoff circled the mat, each step evenly measured and noiseless.

“She is right, Maximoff. You can do it. But you aren’t. You’ve told yourself that you can’t do it, and no matter how hard I try, you won’t do it. Discipline, which you lack, is the tool to success in the art of fighting, and defending. You can be more and you choose not to be. I cannot train a weak pupil like that.”

Wanda scowled at Natasha from the mat, and struggled to get to her feet.

Darcy nervously watched red sparks dance around Wanda’s fingertips- the same sparks she’d used to heat up her friend’s coffee and charge an iPod.

Slowly, Wanda approached the Widow, who resolutely stood still.

“I am weak, you say. I cannot fight with my fists, or kick, or shoot a target… and I am weak, you say.”

Wanda’s left hand shot out to her side as she selected weights at random and dangled them between herself and Natasha.

“Let us see how much weight I can lift, dear teacher. 100… 250… 700 pounds! And yet I am weak because I do not fight as you fight.”

Darcy got out her phone to text Maria in warning when suddenly the weights crumbled into ash. Wanda’s left hand twitched menacingly as the dust floated to the ground.

Romanoff remained nonplussed, and ignored Wanda.

“You’re wasting my time. It’s time to spar, Witch. Are you ready?” Her voice was even and unmodulated, but even Darcy could detect the threat in the air.

Wanda swept away the remnants of the weights with a flick of her wrist and nodded, with a confidence contradicting her earlier exhaustion and despair.

Darcy sent the text to Maria AND Steve, and ran out to the hall to see if anyone was training in the neighboring gym.

Sam Wilson was using the rowing machine, thank Thor, and Darcy grabbed him without explaining.

“What the hell girl?! I was- Oh shit!”

Darcy had been gone less than 2 minutes, but the situation had already devolved into violence. Natasha had pinned Wanda to the ground with her forearm.

“Defend yourself, Witch! Show me that you are capable of being an Avenger, prove that you deserve the second chance we gave you!” Wanda helplessly flailed her arms and grabbed Romanoff’s hair, yanking as hard as she could. Darcy tried to run towards them but was stopped by Sam, who merely shook his head.

“They’re still within the bounds of a sparring session- no broken rules or regulations. We intervene if that’s no longer the case.”

Whispering back, Darcy retorted, “You mean we intervene _when_ that’s no longer the case! They’re trying to kill each other!”

Sure enough, Natasha was on her feet and dodging Wanda’s less powerful blows. “Fight- unf- back! You cannot keep running, Widow!”

Natasha replied with a spectacular roundhouse kick that had Wanda flying across the room.

Stalking towards her pupil, the Widow stood over Wanda’s prone body.

“I know the difference between a weak mind and a weak body, Maximoff. Unfortunately, you possess both. Learn to gauge your enemies before you attack- especially if that enemy is your instructor.”

Wanda slowly sat up, nose bloody and eyes shining with tears.

“You say I am weak. You are strong. You want this to be the only truth. But we are not so different, Natalia Alianovnva.”

Wiping sweat from her brow, Wanda spat out a glob of blood.

“We are both weak in the heart, Natalia. We are weak for the men we have lost. You blame me for your heartbreak, Widow. You think I drove away your love- but he was already gone, дорогой. I saw into his mind in Johannesburg. Would you like to know what I discovered?”

Natasha turned away, and even from a distance Darcy could see that the Widow’s hands were shaking.

Wanda’s grin was feral as she continued, blood drying on her lips.

“Chaos. Uncontrollable chaos, and a man trying to hide within it. Your love was never yours, Natalia, because he is bound to his other self in ways you will never understand. Even if he wanted to stay with you, he wouldn’t. He would never let himself be vulnerable like that, Natashenka, even if you let yourself be weak for his sake.”

Sam and Darcy each startled as Natasha’s hands curl into fists- and uncurl, and then curl again.

“Why so sad, little spider? Happy endings don’t exist for women like you and I, we who are _so very alike._ My heart broke when Pietro was stolen from me. Surely you feel the same.”

Betraying her emotions, Natasha choked out, “I’m nothing like you, traitor. HYDRA collects pawns like you, uses them up and tosses them out like the trash you are!”

Wanda lifted off the ground and hovered before Natasha, still smiling.

“Didn’t the Red Room do the same to you? Little Natasha, dancing her nightmares away? They stole from you, they stole from me, and we are both empty puppets today. Why argue over differences? HYDRA, Red Room. It is the same. We are the same, weak in love for men who were always meant to leave us.”

Natasha lunged so quickly Darcy could only catch a flash of scarlet hair- and then the Black Widow was atop a struggling Wanda in midair, widow’s bite pressed to the jugular.

“Who is weak now, Witch?”

Wanda couldn’t support Natasha’s weight and they both fell to the ground, the latter rolling away into a fighting stance.

Before Wanda could get up, Black Widow surged at her and put her in a chokehold.

Darcy didn’t think- she grabbed the juice she’d made for Wanda and sprinted across the training room. Before considering the consequences, she overturned the contents of the cup on the Black Widow’s head and screamed, “ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU- STOP IT!”

Wanda dropped the dumb-bells she’d had levitating around her in shock, as Natasha furiously wiped green goo from her eyes.

“Who do you think you are, Lewis? You’re interrupting Avengers training- that’s probably not great for your job security, you little-“

Wanda choked the words out of Natasha’s throat, as her hand tightened around thin air. Romanoff gasped for air as her hands scrabbled to find the source of the strangulation.

Darcy paled, and grabbed Wanda by the ear, pulling hard.

“Wanda, NO! Let her go, you’re not like that! LET HER GO!”

Reluctantly, Wanda loosened her grip, and Darcy pushed her towards Sam, who had been joined by Steve and Maria.

Darcy took a deep breath as she stared down a green juice sodden Black Widow.

* * *

 

 

Steve had been in a video conference with a delegate from Wakanda when Darcy’s frantic message- “SOS, BLCK WIDOW VS SCARLET WITCH TRAINING ROOM B NEED BACKUP”- arrived. He did his best to wrap up his meeting, and grabbed his shield from his office while running to the other side of the facility. In the 4 minutes it took him to cover an acre of facility, Steve had ran all kinds of scenarios in his mind as to what had finally triggered the showdown.

Natasha had seemed to have taken the hint from the anonymous complaint, and even Steve had noticed a positive change in the Scarlet Witch. He’d even seen her chatting with Vision and Sam a lot more after training. It was disappointing for all that progress to fall apart. He’d expected a myriad of sights to greet him when he would arrive, but he hadn't expected to see Darcy take down Natasha with a bedazzled cup of juice. Nat spat back at Darcy, and then Wanda jerked her hands. Suddenly Natasha was choking- Steve moved to tackle the Witch but Darcy had him beat. With a grip on the Scarlet Witch’s ear, Darcy got Wanda to release Natasha.

He opened his mouth to begin shouting at someone, _anyone_ to explain what the hell was going on, when Darcy beat him to the punch again.

“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

Steve and Maria stared at each other as Darcy threw her cup across the room, shattering it on a weight machine.

“I tried to fix this! I was on your side, Wanda, and I stuck my neck out for you!”

Wanda glanced around wide-eyed, rescued only when Natasha gasped out the word “complaint”.

“That’s right! I wrote a _note,_ like a concerned soccer mom! I was passive aggressive with Captain frickin’ America, aka my BOSS, aka YOUR MUTUAL BOSS, and what do you do? YOU GET WORSE. AND YOU! AGENT ROMANOFF, the best fucking secret super spy ever, sad because she got DUMPED?! I get dumped all the time, but I don’t turn a grieving teenager into my personal whipping post to help me get over it! I TALK about my feelings, have some wine, and GET THE FUCK OVER IT. And if I CAN’T, I seek professional help!”

Sam stepped behind Darcy and lightly tapped her shoulder.

“Maybe you need to calm down a bit yourself, Darcy. Just, ah, simmer down a bit?”

Steve stood next to Sam, ordering everyone to stand down rather belatedly.

Darcy pivoted to death-stare at Maria and him, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

“AND YOU! ALL OF YOU- THIS HAS BEEN BREWING FOR MONTHS! What made you think it was a good idea to train Wanda with the Widow?! Wanda isn’t a bad person but she did bad things! She invaded Natasha’s head- yeah, Wanda, I know all about Johannesburg- and you made Natasha train the person who fucked with her mind? I don’t get it, you guys, I just don’t get it.”

Maria spoke up, crossing her arms and calling out, “You seem to have a lot to say, Agent Lewis. Why not wait for another chance, tell us what’s on your mind at a more appropriate time?”

Darcy whirled around and stomped towards Steve and Maria.

“I know I’m just a pity hire because you couldn’t convince Jane to come work for your shady new team, Hill, but don’t pretend you care. You wanted your Avengers back, whole and healthy- but you weren’t willing to give it time or the right resources. You were sloppy to let Natasha come back to work with Wanda, and you were stupid to make a grieving 18 year old enlist in an army that doesn’t know its front from its back.”

Steve’s hackles rose, and he interrupted. “Darcy, you’re overreacting. Everyone’s just a little heated up.”

Surprisingly, Natasha scoffed and walked over next to him. “The girl isn’t wrong. I’m unfit to train this girl- I’ve been compromised.”

Turning, the Black Widow held a hand out to Wanda, who stood behind Darcy.

  
“I apologize for my behavior. I was a poor instructor, and you were right. I was unfair to blame you for… for Bruce leaving. That was my personal mistake, and I’m sorry.”

Wanda stiffly took Natasha’s hand, and replied, “Yes. I am sorry too. I know I am not a good student, but I could have done better. I have been… I have not been well, since Pietro. I do not sleep…”  
Sam glanced at Steve, who sent a look to Maria. Nodding, she took control of the situation and called in men to clean up the mess. Natasha and Wanda were sent to the infirmary to get checked out for any injuries, accompanied by Sam.

Steve waited for Maria to leave with the workmen, and then approached Darcy, who had sat down on an unoccupied treadmill to watch the clean-up.

She gazed up at him, eyeliner smeared around her eyes. Shit- she’d been crying.

“I’m fine Steve. Get that constipated look off your face. I’m fine. I’ve seen worse.”

“You keep saying that, Darcy. Wonder what worse looks like, if this isn’t it. Well, I guess Dark Hobbits or whatever Thor cooked up count as worse.”

Darcy laughed, and patted the treadmill.

“Sit. You seem stressed, fearless leader.”

“I’m not your leader. Just the Avengers… and after this mess, I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Darcy clucked her tongue sympathetically and scooted over. Steve tried to squeeze in next to her and barely fit. Steve tried to ignore the warmth of Darcy’s body as she wiped her eyes and picked at her shoelaces. The boots were worn and army-issued, an odd look for the bohemian girl he’d gotten to know of late.

“I know. They’re not very me… they were my mom’s.”

“Ah, she was military right? That seems like a nice memento to wear in her memory.”

Darcy nodded, and they both stared morosely at the dried up puddle of green juice in the center of the training room.

Steve shook his head for the thousandth time. “I’d expect this of Wanda, but Natasha? I’m disappointed as hell in her.”

Darcy smacked Steve, to his surprise, and glared at him.

“Disappointed? She’s been through a _lot_ Steve, the kind of stuff that would make me incapable of functioning. She definitely fucked up- sorry, language- and she crossed boundaries, but she did it because she was hurt. When you don’t treat an injury, it gets infected, and it hurts even more. Emotions work the same way.”

Steve considered this, and hummed his assent. “I guess I can agree with that. But it’s still sad. I thought she was over Bruce.”

Darcy laughed, and stood. “Steve, you sweet summer child. You sound like someone who’s never been left behind by a loved one before.”

She walked away, and Steve watched her retreating figure as he whispered, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

* * *

 

Maria had a migraine.

She had taken two Advil, drank at least two cups of water, but her head was still pounding. Pretty soon she was going to start experiencing light sensitivity, meaning she had to wrap up her work immediately. Dialing Tony’s number with her usual sigh of resignation, Maria stared out the window at the fields. The day was beautiful, warm and sunny as could be.

She’d known Romanoff for years, and this was the first time she’d ever seen a chink in the woman’s armor. She was aware that Natasha had triggers, weaknesses that only Barton or Coulson would talk to her about. But the fact that this situation had developed right below her nose irked her severely. Coulson or Fury would never have missed this- and how did Lewis have better control over two Avengers than she or Rogers did?

Finally, Tony picked up on what had to be the twentieth ring.

“What’s shakin’, Hill? Everything good on the funny farm?”

“No. I have a bit of situation developing and I wanted to report-“

“Now’s not a great time, Hill. Send me an email! Also, I forgot to let you know but Brucie’s back!”

Maria’s blood ran cold as Stark prattled on about Bruce’s surprise return to Avenger’s Tower the week before.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?! You need to update me on team member’s whereabouts!”

“Ah, looks like I just updated ya. Listen, Hill, Banner’s on his way, ETA 1 hour from now. He wanted to talk to Steve about something, wouldn’t say what. Give him the old SHIELD welcome- or actually, don’t do that. He’d probably enjoy the opposite of a SHIELD welcome.”

Maria tuned out Stark and ended the conversation.

_Shit. Shit fuck shit shit shit._

Mindful of her migraine, she dialed another number on her phone.

“Hello? Yeah, Darcy? I need you to do something for me. It’s an emergency. No, you’re not fired.”

* * *

 

Darcy tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel of the truck as Wanda warbled along to Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood”.

Unconscious of the irony, Wanda had her feet up on the dashboard. Her usual boots had been discarded for sandals Darcy had never seen before, along with cutoff shorts and a plaid shirt that was way too big for her.

“Band-aids don’t fix bullet holes! You say sorry just for show!” Darcy joined in singing with Wanda, but her mind was back on base with Maria and the Avengers.

How was Natasha dealing with the return of Dr. Banner? Darcy had never met the man but she’d seen the same footage every Culver student had of the Hulk’s … mark on the university.

Steve’s parting message floated in her mind on repeat- _“He’s a good man, but he’s on the brink all the time… and Wanda pushed him over that brink. He hates her for what she made him do… he probably wouldn’t hurt anyone, but she just might push him again. It’s better to keep her safe. Don’t tell her why, just go.”_

Darcy had taken the proffered keys and credit card and practically ran, but not before she saw Natasha Romanoff shrink down into herself.

As she drove down the interstate, Darcy made a promise to herself in the twilight summer sky.

_When I return, I will make friends with Natasha Romanoff._

_Lord knows she needs one._


	5. The Girl with the Cheez Whiz Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Darcy get away.

“WITNESS ME!”

Darcy tried to feign sleep on the musty motel bed, but Wanda was jumping on the bed. The creak of the bed’s ancient springs sounded a lot like Darcy was having a _wild_ night of sex, but really she was just dealing with a hyperactive teenager who’d just seen “Mad Max: Fury Road”.

Falling onto the bed next to her, Wanda whined, “Darcy! Why won’t you witness me to halls of Valhalla?!”

Abandoning any pretense of getting rest, she grabbed the can of CheezWhiz from the bedside table and pointed it at Wanda’s mouth. The girl happily bared her teeth, and Darcy pressed hard on the nozzle. Wanda’s grin was eerily orange, but her idea to toss a few crackers in as she chewed was pretty smart.

After a few more minutes of brushing her teeth and bouncing around, Wanda crashed on the trundle bed by the window.

Darcy finally took advantage of the silence to parse through her thoughts.

It had been a long, long day. The debacle with the Black Widow had drained her enough to send her to bed for at least 12 hours, but Bruce Banner had to show up and make everything a thousand times worse.

_Who are you kidding, Darcy? He’s probably spent his whole life running away from worse. He had one failed romance, he didn’t hurt anyone purposely._

After two days on the road, Darcy was very ready to go back to base. The roadtrip was fun, in theory, but Darcy had spent it glancing over her shoulder and surreptitiously checking her phone for updates.

She kept expecting to receive a text saying that the Hulk had destroyed the Avengers Facility, or that Banner and Romanoff had quarreled violently. Instead, Steve kept texting her innocuous messages, like “Enjoy your trip, see you in two days!” and “Try the Cyclone at Coney Island!”

Darcy had done her best to keep Wanda from thinking about the events which had passed back at base, but she knew that her friend was too smart to ignore such a monumental meltdown. It was why Wanda regressed and became childish, giddy and overstimulated by everything around her.

_She did grow up in a war-torn Sokovia, though, so she can’t have had many carefree experiences like a roadtrip. This is new to her. This is her first taste of freedom._

Armed with that fortifying compassion, Darcy endured the goofy teenager’s whimsical demands and did her best to fulfill them. Something about what she had seen these past months at her new job- something she’d observed in nearly everyone who worked there- was a brokenness to each person.

It wasn’t obvious, except in Wanda’s case, but it was clear to anyone who knew the signs. Steve was depressed, Maria was prone to headaches from anxiety, Natasha was… well, she had no idea what Natasha was. And that was the root of her issue, really. She knew to some extent what the Black Widow had survived in her girlhood, but her knowledge was frustratingly limited.

Everyone there needed a support system, and new SHIELD had done little to provide that. She supposed the oversight wasn’t really Maria’s fault, but just society’s in general. There were top of the line medical professionals available at all times for treating Avengers’ injuries, but there was only one Sam Wilson available for counseling sessions- and considering how close he was to his “clients”, the sessions lacked the private intimacy of doctor patient confidentiality.

Wanda snuffled in her sleep, and Darcy got out of bed. Grabbing her Culver hoodie, she tucked it in around Wanda’s tiny frame. _Still so skinny. She’s got to gain more weight, she’s still a teenager._

Darcy mentally scolded herself for mothering Wanda, but at this point it was second nature for her to “adopt” people.

Since sleep was evading her, she stepped into the bathroom with her phone. Maybe she could call Jane, catch up. Jane had texted Darcy sporadically over the months, but the messages had dwindled down to nothing for the last 6 weeks. She had expected for Jane to forget about her, but it still hurt.

Darcy was sitting on the (closed) toilet scrolling through Buzzfeed in search of fun quizzes to do with Wanda when her phone buzzed.

**Steve: Are you awake? Need to talk. Will call.**

Darcy quickly tapped out a reply in the affirmative.

Before a minute had passed, an unknown number was calling her.

“Hello?”

“Darcy, are you alone right now?”

“The kid’s passed out in another room. What’s up, dude?”

“Ah- it’s quiet over here. Just wanted to give you the all clear to come home- back to base, that is.”

“Kermit the frog is gone?”

Darcy could literally hear Steve figuring out who Kermit was, and decided to give him a hint.

  
“Jim Henson’s the Muppets, Steve? You watched a few episodes while running a million laps that one time, remember?”

“Oh. That’s not a nice thing to call Bruce, Darcy. And he just left. He needed to discuss something with me, and then he checked in with the science labs to make sure everything’s going alright.”

“Did he have a run in with…?”

“Nat? No. She’s been off base. Can’t say I blame her.”

“Really? So you’re not disappointed in her any longer?”

Steve sighed over the phone, and Darcy felt bad for needling him.

“I am, and I’m not at the same time. I forget how much baggage Romanoff lugs around from her past. It has to take a lot for someone like her to forge a relationship with a guy who has so many… issues.”

Darcy clucked her tongue, and moved to turn on the tap for the tub. Her neck was sore from driving, and she wanted to soak.

“Darcy, you still there?”

“Yeah, just turning on water for a bath. You were saying? Issues?”

“Er- uh yeah. Bruce has issues.”

“Big understatement, Captain obvious. Can I give you some advice?”

“Anytime.”

“Give Natasha space, but don’t stop treating her normally. Talk to her, eat breakfast with her. Be yourself, as boring as that may be for her.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

  
Darcy giggled. “I’m just kidding, you’re maybe the third most interesting person I’ve ever known.”

“Really? Who takes the top spot?”

“Well, Thor is number two. The guy’s got crazy depths, which isn’t immediately apparent when you first meet him.”

“That makes sense. Who’s number one, by the way?”

“Ah… well, that’s confidential, soldier. And by that, I mean that it’s something I don’t like talking about very much.”

Steve was quiet over the line, but she could hear him breathing so she didn’t hang up. The tub was filled, so Darcy began to strip while awkwardly keeping the phone to her ear.

Finally, after a few more beats, Steve spoke.

“Does this have something to do with the “worse” you’re always talking about having seen? You have a habit of mentioning it, but you’ve never really explained it.”

Darcy eased herself into the bath, moaning at the instant relief to her sore back muscles.

“Sorry, was just getting into the bath. And- uh… well, let’s just say that when I say I’ve seen worse, I really mean worse. Nothing’s topped “worse” yet for me… I don’t really talk about it, so that’s why you don’t know what it is. But don’t feel bad, Jane doesn’t even know what worse is. She never asked.”

“Seems like a difficult story to keep to yourself, Darcy. You’re always half-mentioning it.”

Darcy bit her lip, wondering how she’d brought this topic upon herself.

“I could tell you, Steve, but… I don’t know. We’re not really close friends- more like work acquaintances who eat midnight snacks together. As dirty as that sounds, it’s all we really have in common. Honestly? The only person I’ve told besides my therapist is Thor, and that’s because he was able to relate.”

Steve paused, and then grunted.

  
“What? You jealous that I told blondie and not you?”

“No, I’m not jealous Darcy. I’m just mad at myself. I have this habit of not letting people get close… and you kinda slipped through anyways. I’ve been beating myself up for weeks because of that…”

“Why is making friends a bad thing, Steve? Is it that superhero schtick where you try to be aloof so the people close to you won’t get hurt?”

Steve was silent again, and Darcy realized her mistake.

  
“Steve. Steve that was a shitty thing to say. My biggest flaw is that I don’t think before I speak. Please forgive me?”

“It’s okay, Darce. I know you didn’t mean it. But you have to realize that being friends with me can be lethal.”

“That didn’t stop Sam. He thinks the sun shines outta your ass, plus he’s the best wingman ever.”

“Your puns are horrible. And yeah, Sam’s a great pal. I guess with him it’s different… He can protect himself, because he knows… well, that’s a story for him to tell, I guess.”

“I’m not stupid, Steve. Sam’s lost somebody. You’ve all lost somebody, it’s what binds your team of super powered wrecks together.”

Deadpan, Steve stated “Darcy, please, tell me exactly how you feel.”

_Sassy Steve was very cute. Even over the phone._

“Well, Steve, I’ve got to get off. The phone, that is. I have to be up at 7 tomorrow for the drive home, and I need a solid 5 hours at least. See you soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon. And… well, maybe we could hang out more? Become actual friends?”

Darcy kicked her feet in the water and mentally fist pumped as she coolly replied “It’s about fuckin’ time Rogers! We’re gonna watch Harry Potter and you are going to love it!”

“Alright then. Movie night it is. G’nite, Darce.”

“Night Steve!”

Hanging up, Darcy dropped her phone on top of her towel and sank down into the bathwater gleefully.

* * *

 

Natasha had needed a break.

She was initially angry when Steve had told her to go off-base, but she’d complied with his command. Her tantrum was something which would have resulted in immediate termination from the Red Room- death, not getting fired- but the Avengers were not murderers.

Her initial instinct was to hide- go to a hotel and mope with alcohol and old movies. She changed her mind while packing her overnight bag. She’d already folded and packed several outfits into the bag when she noticed a black dress in a garment bag at the far end of her closet.

Grabbing that, and a pair of Louboutins, Natasha zipped up the bag and decided to go have _fun._

She grabbed the keys to her favorite sports car- a Corvette Stingray, also black- and texted Steve that she was off.

**Steve: Be careful. Feel better Nat.**

She ignored her sentimental urge to go give her friend a hug, and instead went to the garage. Her baby was one of her few material splurges- the Stingray was _fast_ and looked good zooming down the road. Natasha unlocked the door and slid into her seat. She turned on the radio, found some excellent classical music, and put on her sunglasses.

_Road trip is a-go. Beep beep._

Turning the key, Natasha took a minute to listen to the engine purr. Switching the gears, she drove out of the garage and towards the Facility’s exit. The sun was bright even through Natasha’s tinted windows, so she rolled them down and let her arm rest there.

The warmth made her feel good, better than she’d felt in ages. Natasha quickly made her way to the highway, taking the interstate towards New York City. She could have sworn she had passed a yellow Porsche Spyder Stark drove, but was unsure at a speed of 90 mph.

The drive was quick and painless, with only one stop at a gas station for some snacks and a bathroom break.

Natasha checked into the Four Seasons in Manhattan around noon. She didn’t like hotels on principle (too many missions, too many memories), but she didn’t have any secure residences in NYC after SHIELD fell. The suite she’d booked was luxurious, as expected, and the bellhops were the epitome of courteous. She’d worn her hair differently and experimented with her eye makeup enough that no one would identify her as the Black Widow, so there was little fear of her being discovered.

After a quick freshening up in the spacious bathroom, Nat changed into clothes more fitting for someone who didn’t fight crime with men in leotards. She changed into a floaty green sundress with a gold belt cinched around her waist. She paired the dress with a cream leather jacket and gold flats- just because one was always prepared for a quick getaway.

Tucking her firearm into her thigh holster and grabbing her purse, Natasha went to go get lunch. She found a half dozen food trucks after walking three blocks, and decided on Korean BBQ Tacos. She normally ate healthily, avoiding carbs and fatty foods (the price of being a Black Widow) but she knew she needed to indulge.

As she ate with a smear of bulgogi sauce on her upper lip, Nat finally allowed herself to think of Bruce. It had been agonizing to know he’d chosen to leave her behind, but in her heart she’d known her fantasy was exactly that. She would never have her storybook romance with Bruce because the man she thought she’d loved would never love her back the same way.

She’d always questioned her attraction to the only man capable of paralyzing her with fear, but then Stark had suggested the “lullaby”- she’d always hated that name- and she had gotten closer to Bruce. She’d discovered a sensitive man beneath the fluffy hair and mad scientist façade. It had been intoxicating to allow herself to imagine a future together- long nights, lazy mornings, always together. After living a solitary life for so long, the idea of companionship and love was irresistible.

Natasha finished her last taco and stood, wiping her mouth on a napkin. Tossing her trash in the garbage pail, she got out her phone to search for a coffeehouse. Being in New York City meant that good coffee was everywhere, if you knew how to find it. Choosing a table on the terrace of a café, Nat ordered a cappuccino and returned to her introspection.

Maybe she’d felt guilty for manipulating Bruce in Calcutta three years ago, but she’d had orders. She’d been scared, in the humid air of a city teeming with life, in a shack alone with Bruce Banner.

They’d been surrounded by SHIELD agents, of course, but somehow Bruce’s wounded gaze had made her feel utterly alone.

(Maybe she had a weakness for broken people like her, people who had been unmade and sloppily put back together)

The Incident on the helicarrier with Loki wasn’t as romantic an experience. Natasha had never feared death, or torture, or abuse. She could take _anything_ and she would survive it, or die trying.

But facing the Hulk had been unimaginably terrifying- she could still see his brown eyes turn green and furious, unable to identify friend from foe.

Running from the Hulk was worse than anything she’d ever experienced, either. It felt like every bad thing she’d ever done was thundering behind her, finally catching up to her- like a personification of all her insecurities and fears.

Afterwards, she’d been frozen. Sweat dripped down her face and back, her ankle throbbed in pain. But she’d survived it, and she’d ridden the adrenaline to safety.

 _Rush._ She craved it, craved the high of pushing her body to the limit for the sake of survival. She was an adrenaline junkie, and she knew it. Seeing the Winter Soldier had triggered… memories… but then on the high way he’d only reminded her of the thrill of successfully passing one of the Red Room’s tests. Whether it meant slitting the throat of her bedmate or diving off a cliff, Natasha had always loved surviving.

Maybe she’d loved Bruce because of the risk. He was always on the brink of disaster, and maybe Natasha craved being on the fringes of that because she loved the high of it, despite the life she’d tried to build for herself.

Or maybe she was selfish. Bruce deserved _peace_ and she’d brought more chaos to his life. It was obvious, in hindsight that he’d never planned on staying. He was too good a man to endanger those around him for the sake of a love affair.

(She knew there was a woman named Betty, and she knew Bruce still had a picture of her in his wallet. It’s a folded up, creased slip of paper, but she could feel its significance burning into her skull when she caught him tucking it within the bills)

So love was never in the cards for Natasha Romanoff.

Leaving a tip on the table for her server, she hailed a cab. The Stingray was too ostentatious for New York traffic- odds were someone would crash into it out of spite.

Directing the cabbie to a salon she’d frequented a long time ago, Natasha settled into the seat.

She could forgive herself for loving Bruce and failing him, because he’d failed her too. He could have been upfront and admitted his intention to leave from the start. Instead he’d led her on- they’d even spent the night together at the farmhouse- and let her build her hopes up. Hope was a devastating thing, she supposed, and paid the cabbie with cash.

The salon was upscale but small, owned by three generations of Polish women who understood the kind of service Natasha needed. Nat described what she wanted done to her hair and then sat back to let the women do their work. Silence was what she cherished in this salon, silence and comfort. Normally silence meant solitude, but not here.

So she’d forgiven herself for loving a man she shouldn’t have.

What about the mess with the _girl?_

Wanda Maximoff was responsible for the Hulk’s rampage in Johannesburg. She was guilty of unleashing certain demons from Natasha’s past, making her weak. She’d destabilized the carefully cultivated calm of her mind, and Natasha had hated her for that.

It would be so easy to keep on hating the girl, but Natasha could not do so without forgetting her own crimes.

How many lives had she destroyed under the Red Room’s control? The Black Widows were elite assassins, but they did more than just kill. They carried out plots to destroy the world around them, to create disorder. Hell, the Red Room had borrowed the Winter Soldier from HYDRA- she and Wanda had practically worked for sister organizations.

The only difference was that Natasha was made into a killer.

HYDRA made Wanda into… something _more._

Magic hammers and Norse gods were one thing, but genetically engineered witches were another. She was terrified by the extent of Wanda’s abilities, and yesterday had only confirmed Natasha’s fears.

Sasha, the woman cutting her hair, tapped her shoulder. Natasha opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Her curly short hair was now a pixie cut, shaved on the sides and long on top.

She looked… different. Stronger, sharper.

It made her feel better, despite everything.

Paying the women with kisses on the cheeks and more cash, Natasha left the salon feeling lighter than she could’ve imagined. It was late afternoon by then, so she hailed a cab to take her back to her hotel.

The bed was inviting her to luxuriate in its sheets, so she decided to take a nap. Before she could doze off, though, one thought invaded her mind again and again.

_Wanda had lost the man she’d loved too._

It was a different love, maybe, but it must have hurt her no less. And unlike Natasha, Wanda’s love was reciprocated by her twin brother.

Squeezing a few unwanted tears from her eyes, Natasha resolved on properly apologizing to the girl when she returned home.

A few hours of sleep left Natasha was energized and ready for a night of fun. The black dress was tight, strapless, and short enough to make her feel slightly breathless. She skipped her natural makeup in favor of a darker look, painting her lips dark burgundy to match her nails. She slipped on her high heels, spritzed perfume on her neck and wrists, and then glanced at herself in the mirror.

A dark, different woman stared back at her.

Ready for a night of dancing, Natasha locked the door and left. It was time she let loose a little.

* * *

 

 

When Darcy and Wanda pulled into the base garage, a black sports car followed behind them. Tired from the amusement park and endless pitstops, Wanda immediately grabbed her bag and headed for her room. Darcy was slower, checking in the keys to the garage attendant.

As Darcy waited for the attendant to process her vehicle, a voice behind her piped up “I think I owe you an apology.”

Darcy nearly dropped her phone in surprise as she whirled around to see the Black Widow, wearing a… dress?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Pressing her hand to her heart, Darcy shook her head.

“It’s fine, I’m just easily spooked. You… you doing okay?”

Natasha smiled and nodded, and Darcy finally noticed what was different about her.

“Your hair! I’m so tired I didn’t notice- you look fucking awesome. But that doesn’t change the fact that you were very unnecessarily mean to my friend.”

Together they walked back to the base. “I know I was harsh. I… I slipped up. I lost my footing, but I think I’ve found it. Your friend has nothing to fear from me- it’s more the opposite now, really.”

Darcy laughed, because at least the Black Widow understood just how powerful Wanda really was.

“I like the cut of your jib, Romanoff. We should be friends.”

The Widow cocked her head and inquired, “Why jump to friendship?”

Darcy shrugged. “It’s my thing. I don’t have much in the way of family, but I do have friends. You seem like you’d be a good friend, if you wanted to be. I could be a good friend too.”

  
They kept walking down the halls towards the kitchen- both women were hungry, it seemed.

Finally, Natasha nodded.

 

“I think we could try being friends. My female acquaintances are limited anyways. I’ve never had a real girl-friend.”

“I’m not gonna date you, Romanoff!”

“You know what I mean, idiot.”

Darcy grinned happily, and grabbed one of Steve’s endless rotisserie chickens from the fridge.

“Want to make paninis?”

Natasha responded by getting out the panini press and hopping onto the counter.

“I like mine without cheese.”

* * *

 

When Steve went to the living area to pick up his laptop charger from his room, he was shocked. Darcy and Natasha each asleep on a respective armchair, with a plate of bread crusts on the table before them.   
Shaking his head, he grabbed his charger and went back to his office.

Memories of his conversation with Darcy the night before danced in his head as he found the first Harry Potter film in Stark’s endless collection. Texting Sam and the rest of the team, Steve sat back.

**Steve: We’re watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone tomorrow night, 8 PM. Bring snacks :)** **  
**

Maybe movie night was what his team of “wrecks” needed.


	6. Let Loss Reveal It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rough. It starts out nice, but trigger warnings for military violence, mentions of Holocaust, and mention of rape. If you don't want to read this but want to know what happens, message me privately or comment and I'll help you out. Best of luck, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings in summary. Please comment if you feel so inclined.

_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ was the perfect movie for the Avengers. Darcy had casually suggested it for Steve to watch with her, _alone,_ but he’d gone and invited the whole team.

She’d padded into the common room with a tray of brownies she’d baked earlier that afternoon, expecting a cozy evening, half hoping it would become something more.

Thus Darcy had been shocked to find the Vision dressed in his version of pajamas, cross legged on the ground next to Wanda. Noting the shy glances the former kept sending the latter, Darcy settled on a sofa with a good view of the flat-screen TV, tucking her feet under her. By 7:58, Natasha, Rhodey, and Sam had wandered into the room with a half dozen pizzas and soda. By 7:59, Maria had quietly walked in with a tablet tucked under her arm. And at 8 PM on the dot, Steve emerged from his bedroom wearing a gray scrap of fabric masquerading as a SHIELD t-shirt with dad jeans only he could rock. Ignoring the fact that Steve had chosen to sit very close to her, Darcy got comfortable with a Snoopy snuggie and savored the sheer joy of the moment.

Only Wanda had seen the Harry Potter films, so Darcy was excited to gauge everyone else’s responses to the film.

The chatter quieted down as the familiar overture swelled throughout the room, and a sign reading “Privet Drive” appeared onscreen.

By the time Harry was talking to a snake at the zoo, Steve and Wanda were both watching, gape-mouthed. Natasha had a tiny wrinkle between her brows when Uncle Vernon shoved Harry too roughly, and Vision’s eyes sparkled when dozens of Hogwarts letters rained down upon the Boy Who Lived.

Midway through the movie, Darcy’s legs had fallen asleep. Quietly disentangling herself from her snuggie, she tiptoed to the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, she sat at the bar and dangled her legs so the feeling would return to them. Checking her phone for texts quickly turned into a trip down the rabbit hole of tumblr, and before Darcy realized it the movie was close to its finish. She snuck back to the sofa, where Steve remained. She suppressed a giggle at Steve’s pose; he had his knees tucked under his chin, huge arms wrapped around legs that were too long for the couch. For the first time Darcy saw a hint of the small man she’d seen in textbook photographs.

The film was a resounding success, and the team stayed seated, discussing the film and its pros and cons. Sam immediately begged Darcy to let him borrow her copy, causing Rhodey to interject that he was the fastest reader and thus deserved to read it first.

“Guys, settle down! No one’s getting a copy of my book! You’re all adults- go buy the damn thing online or Amazon Prime that shit. I’ve had my copy since 1997, first edition.”

Steve winked at Darcy and corralled the team towards their quarters. Darcy watched the team disperse, then turned to the sitting area to clean up. Natasha alone remained, helping her pick up red cups and paper plates.

“I’m always cleaning up after these boys. You’d think they’d know what a trash can was.”

Darcy laughed at the dry Russian and scoffed. “Impossible. That much testosterone would never allow for it. And Wanda is as messy as any teenager- trust me, I practically room with her.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow in amusement, and began to hunt in the kitchen for disinfectant to clean the table with.

Darcy called out, “Top cabinet to your left.”

Natasha found the spray and returned. “You seem to be getting comfortable in this kitchen. No one else uses it.”

Shrugging, Darcy continued to pick up trash. “I cook, and I make messes, so I have to know where the cleaning supplies are. I’m an army brat, so my room was always subject to military inspection. Mom had me thinking I’d cause a war if there was so much as a wrinkle in my bedsheets.”

Halting her fluffing the pillows Sam had built a nest out of, Natasha stood ramrod straight.

“I know what that’s like.”

Darcy opened and closed her mouth like a fish. “I’m- I’m sorry if I made you think about the past. I always forget that people here have not so great childhoods, and then they get all broody on me if I bring up something like riding a bike. Seriously, my bad.”

Natasha’s posture relaxed, and she resumed her tidying.

“It was out of your control, so how can you be sorry? Besides… I have read that your childhood wasn’t so easy either. Moving bases like that had to be hard.”

Darcy stiffened but doggedly kept dissembling pizza boxes for the recycling.

“It was mom’s job. I never resented her for it, really. I only worried about her being safe. After dad was killed in Iraq during the first war, mom left combat… but I still worried.”

The room was spotless. Darcy carefully sat down on the armchair furthest from Natasha, feeling entirely unsettled.

Natasha sensed her unease and kept a small distance, sitting on the sofa across from her.

“Do you still see your mother? She sounds like a remarkably strong woman.”

_There it is. My least favorite question._

Shuddering, Darcy tried to answer calmly, tossing out “Not anymore.”

Crossing her legs and leaning forward, Natasha gazed intently at Darcy.

“You have this look when you mention your mother or the army, Darcy. I noticed it the first day I met you, in the commissary, and it’s why I was suspicious of you. Now, I know there’s a story behind the look, something that makes you twitchy. You don’t have to tell me about it because we don’t know each other that well. But speaking from personal experience with stories like that, you shouldn’t hold it in. Tell someone you trust. Tell Wanda. Tell your scientist friend. But let it out, else you’re gonna be weird and twitchy for the rest of your life.”

Darcy shut her eyes and squeezed tight, desperately hoping the Widow’s gentle voice would stop. She was _fine,_ capital F-I-N-E fine and she didn’t need to tell anyone her story.

Opening her eyes a moment later, Darcy was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see that Natasha had disappeared. Grabbing her snuggie, she dragged herself to her room and fell into a nightmarish sleep.

* * *

 

Steve was very pleased with the results of movie night. He observed Vision interacting with team members other than Wanda, which left Wanda to Nat’s devices. The two women spent an hour Monday morning practicing yoga. Later that day, Wanda successfully completed her first physical training exam. Her running was acceptable, she completed the required pushups and pull ups, and she knew how to disarm an opponent in under 5 seconds.

The whole team cheered when Natasha grinned and shouted, “Passing grade!” Later, at lunch, Rhodey and Sam dragged Wanda and Vision to eat at their table. Darcy arrived a few minutes later. Steve admitted to himself that he was waiting for her arrival, as he watched her take a seat by herself at a table far from her friend. She looked terrible. The skin beneath her eyes was bruised bluish-yellow, the same was Bucky’s was after he’d rescued him from Schmidt’s base.

The memory made Steve wince. By the time he glanced Darcy’s way, she’d already finished her meager meal and left the commissary.

Natasha saw him scowling when she arrived for lunch, and Steve was grateful when she ate her lunch in silence. Chewing on a salad leaf, she only raised her eyebrows at him.

Without addressing what was bothering him, Steve flatly stated “We watch the next Harry Potter movie this coming Friday. No excuses for attendance, not that I think there’ll be any.”

He knew it was rude to leave a lady without saying goodbye, but he knew Natasha wouldn’t care.

He just wanted to know why Darcy looked haunted. Was it lack of sleep?

Or was it something… worse?

* * *

 

Darcy quickly got over her pique from movie night. It wasn’t anything a glass of wine and some quality bath bombs couldn’t cure- well, not cure, but definitely treat for the short term. The Widow had come very close to wrangling THE thing she least wanted to discuss out of her. The “I’ve seen worse” line she used on Steve was in reference to THE thing she tried to ignore. Well, not actively ignore it- more like, act like it didn’t affect her public life.

Besides, Thor arrived with a bang. Well, figuratively, he landed in London and “shagged” his lady love for the better part of two days- Jane sent Darcy a blurred picture of a godly backside.

She’d gaily announced to the team at the next movie night (Chamber of Secrets was badass, yo) that Thor was en route to the USA. He was traveling by Mew-Mew, so an ETA was a bit hard to pin down. Steve asked, with that resigned note in his voice she mentally associated with a tired single dad of five, “How exactly do you know that Darcy?”

She didn’t quite expect to show anyone Jane’s NSFW text, but when she couldn’t provide any other proof, Darcy was forced to hand over her Starkphone. Steve merely glanced at the picture, rolled his eyes, and handed back her phone.

“I’ll have the staff prepare him a room. And I’d better order more coffee, the guy drinks it like water.” Steve walked off, and Darcy grinned happily, alone in the common room after the movie had finished. She quickly set to work making Thor’s favorite Blondies (she sworn up and down to Jane that she’d baked them coincidentally upon Thor’s arrival after the Dark Elves, and was not making fun of someone’s luscious locks).

“I smell something sinful- Darcy, are you holding out on movie night?”

Sam was back with a trash bag, picking up discarded bags of microwave popcorn.

“Ah, I’d never keep sweets away from you, sugarbear.” Sam snorted at the nickname, and retorted “It’s sugarlips! Get it right, woman!” Laughing, Darcy popped the first tray of batter into the oven. Setting the timer, she picked a bar stool and chatted with Sam as he cleaned up.

“I heard you had a rough weekend. Steve said you weren’t looking well.”

Darcy grimaced. “Steve’s an old biddy when he wants the scoop. I was upset about something, but it’s okay now. I’m over it!”

Sam held his hands up, backing away. “I get it! Everyone gets down, Steve just happened to notice you this time. If you ever want to talk, though, know that I’m always near.”

Darcy hopped off her stool and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a doll. Stop being so perfect, I might fall in love with you.”

Sam burst out in laughter as he left the room, to Darcy’s confusion.

Thor, ever the prima donna, didn’t arrive until 3 AM that morning. A large stack of cooled off Blondies waited on a platter on the coffee table, along with a snoring Darcy curled up on the sofa.

Darcy was dreaming of dancing cats and lab experiments gone wrong when a gentle touch jerked her out of sleep.

“Wha- Thor!”

Without hesitation she stood up and threw herself into the man’s arms, prepared for the sudden lack of oxygen when Thor responded.   
“Sister Darcy! I’m very glad to see you too- it has been far too long, and much has happened! Jane did not tell me of your departure from her side. I was relieved to know you were here, with my comrades-in-arms.” Thor was infectiously jovial, and before long he had Darcy cracking up with lighthearted tales from his latest sojourn in Asgard.

They sat till dawn, talking as Thor devoured his Blondies. They discussed Jane’s work (brilliant) and Erik’s recover (somewhat complete). They talked about Ultron (Totally Tony and Bruce’s faults), and Tony Stark (human disaster). Thor seemed to have genuine affection for his fellow Avengers, so Darcy didn’t vocalize her criticisms. She instead let Thor talk about his travels, and the Dark Realms he’d searched for… something he couldn’t tell her about.

“What of you, lighting-sister? The Norns have led you to the battlefront yet again!”

“Those creepy old hags with the one eye? Gross reference, Thor. And I guess fate. Maria Hill is a more accurate reason for why I’m here. They wanted Jane and got me instead. Whoops.” Darcy shrugged and tried to grab a Blondie but Thor took her hand instead.

“Darcy, you are as worthy as Jane, and in some ways even more so. Do not disparage yourself this way.”

Thor’s big blue eyes were impossible to resist, but Darcy looked away at her feet.

“Alas, I see you are still in pain. I had hoped enough time had elapsed…”

Darcy choked out a strangled, “I’m fine. I’m over it, I told you.”

Ancient wisdom shined in Thor’s eyes as he nodded quietly. “I will not trouble you further. But know this, Darcy. Losing what you have lost, in the manner that you lost it- there is no shame in carrying the scars openly. I have lost my mother and I mourn her every day. I have lost my brother and faced the terror he wrought on this planet numerous times, and yet I remember the boy I learned to ride horses and fight with. These memories cannot be shut out- you must learn to balance them with the present.”

Darcy shook her head, traitorous tears leaking out of her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking…” Her voice gave out, so she took a sip of water and tried again. “I’ve been considering talking to someone I’ve gotten close to about… THE thing. I just… you remember how I got while I told you. Crying uncontrollably with snot running down my face isn’t my best look, Thor.”

“Steven will not judge you for your pain. He has borne something quite similar, Darcy.”

Darcy jerked in surprise. “How do you know I’m talking about Steve?!”

“I am not wrong, am I?”

Thor smirked knowingly, and Darcy wanted to punch him. They stood, putting away the dirty dishes and headed for the commissary.

“Agh, fuck off Blondie. Enough mushy talk. I wanna take you to breakfast, introduce you to my friend Wanda.”

Smile faltering, Thor glanced back at Darcy, who was struggling to keep up with the God’s pace. He slowed, thankfully, but Darcy realized that Thor must have already met Wanda before…

“She’s not who she was, Thor. She… She was just a lost kid. Give her a shot, okay?”

Thor nodded, and Darcy for the thousandth time wondered why everyone thought Thor was the melodramatic Avenger. Everyone knew Tony and Steve tied for most dramatic, followed closely by Clint.

* * *

 

Steve’s feet pounded on the tread mill at a constant rhythm. He was going slowly, more for the treadmill’s sake than physical limitation.

He had his headphones plugged into his phone, but nothing was playing. Truth be told, Steve was _tired_ of being in charge. The day had been long, and the meetings had been endless. Something known as “Real SHIELD” had popped up, something Fury hadn’t warned Steve about. They were hostile to the new Avengers, especially Wanda. Steve had shut down communication with their Board for a few days- mostly to give himself time to cool off. He had really grown to like Wanda, so hearing her referred to as a “monster” by complete strangers wasn’t gonna fly.

After the mess with Nat, and the training, Scarlet Witch was quickly growing in leaps and bounds. Her powers seemed limitless- she could make force fields, send out energy waves, even manipulate the blood in a man’s body. Wanda didn’t deserve to be shunned and labeled a freak just because she was different. They were all different- she just happened to be more different than SHIELD was willing to deal with.

Steve was hoping the headphones would keep people from talking to him, but sadly the Universe was not on his side that day. Before long, someone hopped up on the treadmill next to him, setting the pace to a steady jog.

“Heya Steve!”

Darcy’s voice lifted his black mood instantly.

“Hi Darce. Never seen you in this part of the facility before.”

Rolling her eyes at him, Darcy stuck her headphones in her ears and began to run. Steve tried to keep his eyes front and center, but he realized that Darcy was fully engrossed with her run. She wore athletic leggings and a Culver sweatshirt, thankfully concealing her distracting body from Steve. He hated how much he looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t perverted, his looking- he just liked the way her ears were weirdly small, and how her glasses were slightly crooked, just like her front two teeth.

Darcy jogged at a steady pace for 20 minutes before slowing to a walk. Steve moved over to a bench to lift weights. Darcy followed, sitting on a discarded yoga mat nearby.

* * *

 

Darcy watched Steve’s arm muscles bunch and unbunch as he lifted what had to be 500 lbs. Most days she would be ogling his biceps, but today she had a mission.

Waiting for him to finish his rep, Darcy cleared her throat.

“Ah, Steve. Can I ask you something?”

Breathing heavily, Steve gasped out a yes.

“Remember when Natasha and Wanda were fighting… and I told you I’d seen worse?”

Steve put the weight back on the rack, and sat up. Wiping his brow with his shirt, he nodded.

“I said I’d only told Thor about worse. No one, not even Jane knows about this. I want to tell you, though.”

Steve leaned forward, and placed a careful hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”

She was literally shaking with anxiety. He’d wondered, of course, what her cryptic words had meant that night on the phone. He’d figured it was something to do with Thor’s alien adventures.

Darcy took a deep breath, and then began.

“I remember telling you that Mom was army. You might’ve guessed by now that she’s gone- dead. But she wasn’t in active duty. She was stationed on a base in Berlin, in charge of going through some old war records with the German Council of Historical Restoration. I was in college at Culver by then, doing my freshman year, spring semester. I was 19, studying Political Science, and drinking lots of beer. Mom called me, one afternoon.

It was during my mid-terms, and I was writing a paper in the school library. She always called at the worst possible time, y’know? So I answered with a little tone in my voice. She didn’t tolerate disrespect from me, Mom took no shit from anyone really. But I could never mess up, like a kid messes up, without her coming down on me hard. Culver was my big rebellion- not enlisting when I turned 18 broke her heart.

When I picked up the phone that day, she sounded strange. Her voice was weird, empty. I thought she had a migraine, like she used to get when I was a toddler, but she told me she was fine. Mom didn’t really seem to have a reason for calling, so I snapped at her, and told her I was busy. She didn’t argue, for once, or call me out- which ought to have warned me… I don’t know. All I know is that I hung up, and went back to my laptop in the library to finish my paper.

Four hours later, when I’d turned in my paper and gone back to dorm to take a shower, I got a call. It was my Mom’s commanding officer, General Whitmann. He was calling to inform me that my mother had shot two people that afternoon- just walked into the cafeteria of the base, pulled out a pistol, and point blank murdered two soldiers. One was 22, just married with a baby on the way. The other was 41 with a daughter at Yale studying medicine. The General then told me that mom had shot herself, twice in the stomach and once in the face. She was dead. And I had hung up on her earlier because I didn’t have time to talk.”

Steve could feel his hands shaking as he listened- Darcy was trying hard to maintain her composure, but tears were leaking out of her eyes rapidly.

“I- Darcy- I’m so sorry.”

She smiled sadly, shaking her head.

“I’m not finished. After I got the news, I flew out to Berlin. Mom’s body was being examined in an autopsy for any kind of drug use- something to explain her actions. She was a decorated officer, and loved by the people she’d worked with throughout her career. It didn’t make sense- it just didn’t make sense.

The funeral was tiny- me, a Rabbi mom had grown up with, and a few of her closest friends. We weren’t sure how to mourn her- she’d hurt so many people in such little time.

I was fucked up about it. I couldn’t talk, eat, sleep. I didn’t cry for a month- not a single tear. I kept seeing mom tucking me in for bed, reading me stories, teaching me to whistle and blow bubbles in my chocolate milk. The same woman who would call me lazy over a bad test grade would also fight to the death for me. I couldn’t bear it. The week after the shooting was a blur. After a while I returned to Culver, to take my finals. I barely passed them, but I didn’t really give a shit. I’d lost my only family and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be mad at Mom, or miss her.

The worst happened when the army mailed me Mom’s personal effects- some clothes, those boots I wear. And journals. Dozens of journals, meticulously written in every day since my mom was 20 years old.”

Darcy stopped to catch her breath. Steve scooted off the bench onto the yoga mat, placing his arm around her shuddering frame.

“I’m sorry- let me continue. There were probably 9 or 10 journals. I was done with finals, so I took the weekend off from my job at the coffee shop on campus. I must have read hundreds of entries- some short, some long- all boring, just like my mom. Utterly, totally reliable. I read from most recent, working my way backwards to the oldest journal, from when mom was around my age. She was in Iraq, stationed near Baghdad. Her parents disapproved of her joining the army so they were estranged from her. She wrote a lot about how difficult the situation was- you know combat areas and how hard it is on soldiers.

Now imagine being one of the only women in the army, a secretary to a general during the early 90s. I couldn’t believe it when I first read it- but apparently my mom was harassed, daily. It began during her basic training, but it didn’t stop after she shipped out. I don’t know what happened, Steve- I don’t know any details, any facts. All I know is that on September 20, 1990, Mom wrote the words, “I WAS RAPED” in capital letters in red pen. It took up two pages, just those three words. I don’t know who did it- I don’t know how, or when- all I know is nine months later, on June 15, 1991, I was born.”

Steve absently stroked Darcy’s arm, legs awkwardly folded under him. She had stopped shaking, and had gone still. Her eyes were watery but no longer streaming- she looked angry.

“I realized, reading those entries, that the man my mother had led me to believe was a war hero- my dad- was a fucking rapist, a sick twisted motherfucker! Oh jeez, great pun. Anyways, Mom’s life was ruined, and I’m the product of it- she didn’t ever speak to her parents again because they didn’t believe her story. They thought she was making it up for attention, to cover up the fact that the man who knocked her up wouldn’t marry her.

Mom also had to deal with the trauma of me asking about my dad- asking where he was, why I’d never seen him, why she had no pictures of him. Mom invented an imaginary hero- not so different from you Steve- just to appease little me. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make… but she was depressed Steve. She never wanted to pursue romance, or even date. Mom was probably asexual- literally, I don’t think she was into that kind of stuff, sex and all, and that makes everything ten times worse. When she found out she was pregnant she requested a transfer. They didn’t dishonorably discharge her which is kind of suspect, and I’ve always thought someone knew she’d been assaulted. But no one ever talked. I called old Commanding officers, squadron leaders, and the whole chain of command. No one talked. No one wanted to talk about the woman who’d snapped and shot two of her own. She was toxic to even mention. It was horrible, and mostly why I took the internship with Jane.”

Darcy was talking faster and faster, words crashing into each other as she fought to finish her story. Steve was crying too, the same hot tears he’d felt on his cheeks when he watched Bucky fall to his ‘death’. Somehow Darcy had shifted onto Steve’s lap, and he was rocking her slowly.

“I just don’t know how she did it, Steve.”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he asked, “Did what doll?”

Darcy finally looked up at him, eyes swimming with more tears.

“How did she love me all these years? I’m… I’m a reminder of the worst thing to ever happen to her… but she called me her true love. Her first entry after my birth, she calls me ‘true love’. I can’t- I just don’t fucking get it?! Thor tried to spew some Asgardian wisdom bullshit, but it’s not as simple as love conquers all! Mom never let me sense even for a second that something was wrong- and I was always too wrapped up in myself to see anything beyond my own stupid life! Was she depressed?

I have no idea because I never spent enough time with her to see the symptoms! Was she mentally unstable? No clue because I wouldn’t even eat dinner with her after I was 13! I insisted on eating alone because she embarrassed me… I pushed her away, even though I’m the one thing that destroyed any chance of her being happy.”

Steve didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say- words were coming to mind, but they were all wrong.

Darcy was quickly withdrawing into herself, disentangling from his arms and standing up. She wiped her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her sweater. Before Steve could form a sentence, his phone began to ring. It was Maria, the last person he wanted to talk to.

Steve roughly barked “What?!” into the cellphone.

“Don’t bite my head off Steve. You need to assemble. Around 2 dozen AIM goons have taken over Stark Tower downtown- Tony’s in Washington and his security team has been compromised. You have five minutes before the jet takes off. Hill out.”

Steve opened his mouth again to speak but Darcy cut him off.

  
“I heard the word assemble. Go. Do your job… I’ll be here when you get back, if you can still face me.”

Irritated and devastated by the pain in Darcy’s eyes, Steve gave up on talking and used his mouth to kiss her instead.

It felt like time slowed down, as Darcy’s chapped lips molded against Steve’s, the taste of salt and chapstick lingering on his tongue.

He barely kissed her for a few seconds, but Darcy’s wide eyes were filled with something… alive. She’d seemed so broken before, and she was hopeful again. Steve hoped he hadn’t done the wrong thing, kissing a woman so vulnerable, but she needed to know- had to know that she was loved, that her mother had to have loved her immensely to raise her to be so strong and good.

He ran a hand through Darcy’s tangled hair, and then jogged off to suit up and join his team.

As he sat in the jet, he devised a game plan and gave orders. But somehow, his mind was kept drifting back to the imagined vision of a younger Darcy, reading a journal entry and sobbing in shock. When he encountered the first goon, Steve didn’t hold back. He rarely fought with intent to maim, but today he was engaging with demons he hadn’t known existed within him.

He punched his way through a damn wall in order to get to a group of Stark Industry Interns, all girls in the Pepper Potts Junior Business Program- it was silly, but somehow saving those girls from murderous henchmen alleviated the pain of knowing that once, Sarah Lewis had been left with no one to save her from indignity and suffering.

It rankled in him, the injustice of what Darcy had told him, and the tragedy it had wrought. He didn’t know what had transpired the day that Darcy’s mother had snapped, but he wanted to find out.

After the mission was complete, and the hostages were taken to safety, and the AIM thugs were in custody, Steve checked on his team. Natasha was hit with a gruesome slash on her left arm, though Wanda had prevented it from being severed altogether with an uppercut that had sent the goon spinning. Nat was pretty immune to pain, but Steve was happy to see her squeezingWanda’s hand as she was stitched up by a medic. Rhodey had a black eye, but other than that was fine. Everyone else had come out unscathed- Thor had had a lot of fun, honestly, and Clint had showed up thirty minutes after the fighting was done, with a Starbucks coffee in hand (Natasha promptly claimed it as hers).

“Hey, no one called me. I only came because I had to pick up some new arrow-tech from Stark’s labs.”

Steve wasn’t mad, and instead apologized. “I guess I actually forgot you, for once. You know Clint, I’ve been trying to forget you ever since I first met you.”

Even through the ribbing, and the post-battle adrenaline, though, Steve wasn’t okay. Darcy’s story had triggered the anger in his own stomach. Somehow, his treacherous mind kept drawing parallels between Darcy’s mom and Bucky. Both innocent, both captured by something malevolent and inhumane. Both having things stolen from their bodies without consent.

Steve closed his eyes on the ride home. It was nightfall when he got off on the tarmac, and Darcy was waiting. She’d showered, and was wearing pajamas with cats on the pants.

Without speaking, she ran directly into Wanda’s arms, who pushed her way out of the jet from behind Steve.

Steve’s enhanced hearing picked up what Darcy was whispering in Wanda’s ears- reassurances that her friend was okay, questions about her wellbeing. Wanda was beaming at the welcome, and once again Steve was struck by the thought that Darcy loathed herself so deeply over circumstances she had no control over.

Finally, after the team congregated in the kitchen for snacks and wandered off to their various beds, Steve settled in on the sofa for a good long brood.

He didn’t have long to enjoy his sulk, because Darcy slipped into the room and sat down next to him. She kept a careful distance between them, but their thighs were brushing against each other as she looked down at her bunny slippers.

Steve didn’t try to push her, sensing her awkwardness.

She finally spoke after a long moment, whispering “I’m glad you’re okay, Steve.”

“And you? Are you okay?”

Darcy swallowed, and shrugged. “I feel better and worse. Telling you felt like an exorcism.”

Steve took Darcy’s small hand into his own, and squeezed tightly.

“I’ll always listen.”

Steve didn’t have any other words that night, nothing that could express the emotions roiling in his belly. But he did gather Darcy up into his arms, and he did let her turn on Chopped Canada, and they did stay up till 2 in the morning just sitting in silence.

 

 

 


End file.
